Knee Socks, Guacamole, and Albus Potter
by Twitches17
Summary: In which the Seventh Years at Hogwarts get a stunning-and physcotic-suprise in the form of a American named Chandler Harris.
1. Minnie, Damaged Egos, and Kittens

"Vanegood, Ramona!" McGonagall yelled as the last First Year approached the sorting hat.

"Definitely a Ravenclaw." Scorp whispered.

"I'm gonna go with Slytherin," I said, eyeing the girl. Any girl with THAT name wasn't going to end up anywhere good.

The girl looked almost close to crying when the Hat was put on her head, her whole body shaking and shuddering as the hat drew closer. I quickly nixed my idea of her ever being a Slytherin. The hat's stitches started to rip and open up as it began to speak. It had made it's decision.

"HUFFLE-"

A loud bang sounded in the Hall, as the thick wooden doors swung open and hit the walls, the sound reverberating throughout the crowd.. The whole hall turned in unison to look at a wide-eyed girl with knee socks and a tiny, gray, striped kitten.

"OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORY I'M LATE!" she said frantically, trying to quickly walk up to McGonagall. The whole hall was silent as they watched the scene unfold. As she hurried up to shake McGonagall's hand, she tripped and ended up crashing into her. McGonagall was sent back a few steps by the blow and a look of shock crossed her face. Her spider-veined legs got tangled up in one another and the professor fell on her ass. A dumb giggle or two fell over the crowd as we watched the night's entertainment.

"Ohmygod," she yelled in McGonagall's face, stunning the old bat. She immediately shuffled over to her and held out both hands, waggling her fingers and gesturing for the professor to grab hold. Minnie just huffed and puffed a bit before dusting her hands off on her ancient wrinkly robes and attempting to get up on her own. It took her a couple millennia but you know, it's not like we're exactly going anywhere.

"Young lady," she seethed, practically wheezing between words, "what is your name?"

_Don__'__t__fall__for__it,__don__'__t__fall__for__it,__don__'__t__fall__for__it,_I repeated to myself.

"Ramona...?" She guessed, slowing dragging out the name like she wasn't even sure of it herself. McGonagall just glared as the other Ramona behind her stifled a horrified and truly Hufflepuff gasp. The kitten in Weird Chick's arms meowed.

McGonagall let out a long and tied sigh. "Just go...and get sorted." Weirdo nodded and awkwardly walked up to the Sorting Hat, stopping in strange places and walking around McGonagall like her life depended on the precise placement of her feet, and taking her sweet time while she was at it. She finally reached the stupid chair and gingerly dusted it off like the mere dust had the plague before tucking her skirt beneath her and sitting down. She started swinging her feet back and forth and looked wayyyyy to happy to be getting sorted in front of hundreds of judge-mental, witty, sarcastic teenagers. As she set the Sorting Hat on her head, everybody in the hall shared frightened looks, hoping this psycho wouldn't be put in their house.

After a few excruciating moments, the hat bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

I cheered with the rest of my house as Gryffindor let out a collective groan. She hopped off the stool and made her way over to the table. Her feet stopped next to my cousin Rose, who wasted no time introducing herself, talking animately with a smile plastered to her face.

"She may be insane, but I'd totally snog her." Scorp said, laughing, his glance lingering on her even as her hips stopped swishing and she took a seat next to the talkative redhead. She looked slightly nervous, a slight blush creeping up her tan skin and her gaze at her feet.

Scorp elbowed me in the ribs and winked at me before standing up and walking over to Weird Chick, lifting a second year up by his collar and moving him over just for an open seat. The poor scraggly thing almost collapsed in sobs before making a bee-line out of the hall. Scorp just shrugged and sat down, taking his spot across from my cousin, who looked up and took an actual breath from her one-sided convo with Weird Chick to look at him, no doubt annoyance and irritation being bored into his forehead.

All of the hundreds of different conversations bouncing around in the Great Hall clouded what Scorp was saying, but it didn't take a genius to notice the coyness in his eyes and his sly smirk.

All of a sudden Weird Chick stood up and leaned over the table, smirking back at him before bringing up a hand to whisper in Scorp's ear. I bit back a snicker at the way Scorp's eyes shined at her sudden forwardness. God, what a whore.

Weird Chick stepped back after a moment and looked at him with a funny little smile before stretching her kitten back across the table. The little thing reached out a paw and bobbed Scorp on the nose, to which he stumbled back, dumbfounded.

I didn't even bother to control my laughter as Scorp walked back, dejected. And the girls said the day would never come...

"What'd she say?" I asked, wiping at the tears in my eyes. He sent a pointed glare at me before sitting back down at my side. He looked down at the floor in disappointment before even bothering to answer me.

"She said she didn't want to have sex but she wanted us to be friends. Then she introduced me to her cat. It's name is Baboo."

If I hadn't been sandwiched in between Scorp and some oddly burly fifth year I would have literally fell out of my seat and started rolling around on the floor laughing.

"Baboo?" I asked after I collected myself, raising an eyebrow. What kind of psycho names their cat Baboo?

"I don't even know," Scorp deadpanned, cutting me off. He picked up a spoonful of mashed potatoes and brought it up to his mouth, stopping suddenly to wrinkle his nose at it. He turned his spoon over and let the potatoes slop back to his plate. I almost gagged.

"I'm not really hungry anymore," he said, now mashing his peas with the bottom of his spoon.

"Yah, me neither," I replied slowly, eyeing his plate as he started mixing the green gunk with his mashed potatoes.

"Hey," he said suddenly, his face brightening as an idea came and dropping his spoon (thank god), "lets go unpack."

That was his brilliant plan for our first night back at Hogwarts. Lame.

"Okay," I said anyways, desperate to get out of the Great Hall.

"That girl is such a nutter," Scorp mumbled as he grabbed his toothbrush.

"No shit, Sherlock. Hey, where are my loungers?" I asked him, rubbing my eyes. God, I was so tired. Lily had blasted some high-pitched boy band all of last night, and i had to listen to her, Rose, and Dom squealing along and what I could only assume was dancing above me. In short, I got no sleep. Then my idiot cousins and best mate wouldn't shut up the entire train ride.

"Over by your trunk." He replied. As I walked across the cold floor of our dorm to my nice warm bed and crisp sheets, I took off my shirt in the process, pulling the fabric up and off my shoulders before dropping flinging it onto my comfortor. Suddenly the dorm door swung open, probably waking up the entire dorm, and in entered Nutter, singing a tune to herself like the nutter she truly was. She then hummed something about guacamole and finally seemed to notice me.

"Oh...you." She said awkwardly, not bothering to even try to stop her bright brown eyes from raking me up and down, an odd smile twitching on her lips. I heard Scorpius choke on his toothpaste when he heard her voice from inside the bathroom, no doubt seizing with a coughing fit on the bathmat.

"Oh, hi Scorpius!" she yelled as she saw him, standing up on her tip-toes in her funny little knee socks covered in kitty-cats, craning her back to get a better look at him. Her face lit up and her eyes went distant, probably reminiscing of her grand non-existent adventures with Scorpo. He waved his fingers slightly, looking at her like she belonged at St. Mungos, then closed the bathroom door. I held back a laugh as Weirdo redirected her attention back to me.

"I'm Chandler Harris." She said, smiling brightly.

I raised a tired eyebrow then said, "I'm Albus Potter. You can call me Al."

"Oh how wondrous! Well, I best be going! Have a nice night, Albie!" She turned sharply on her heel and started skipping off to the door to leave. I was about to release a sigh of relief as the last trace of her exited the room when suddenly her head popped back in. Although I hate to admit it, I actually jumped in fright.

"Oh, do you know where I can get some pickles?" she asked, her eyebrows crinkling slightly. I'll admit it: it was pretty cute. I couldn't help it. I smiled sleepily back at her.

"Pickles? They should be in the kitchen downstairs. The house elves will get it for you."

"Oh good, 'cause my cat can't sleep without 'em!" And with that, she was gone.

"What a wackjob," Scorpius said, reappearing. I just nodded before jumping into my bed and sinking blissfully into the blankets.


	2. Eminem, Dancing, and Harlots

Chandler's POV

"Ow!" I screeched, as Baboo jumped onto my stomach and started clawing at the fabric of my shirt. He is honestly the best alarm clock. After detangling his claws from the ratty old thing, I was greeted with the heel of a stiletto hooking into my nose as it zoomed past, a centimeter above my face. I don't like it when things hit my nose. I screeched again and brought my comforter up to my nose, hiding behind it like a limp shield. I slowly turned my head, afraid that a serial killer would be standing next to me, armed with another six-inch shiny black deathtrap to pummel me with. Instead I found a disgruntled roommate with furious milky brown eyes that reminded me of cows and ratty dirty blonde hair that stuck out in all directions. When I'd introduced myself and my kitten Baboo last night she'd told me to fuck off and go back to whatever fat camp I'd come from. Now she was glaring at me with another black stiletto poised in her hand. Her caramel-colored hair went perfectly with her snide smirk.

"Why did you throw that me?" I asked dumbfounded, cuddling Baboo in my arms and shielding him from this wild and wicked wench. Hehe. Alliterations are boss.

Baboo was a gift from my little brother, Ty, and anything worth Ty's time was definitely worth mine. I'd had him since the first day of last year when Ty'd brought him home from the park, saying he needed a friend. Then a month later, when Ty discovered his magic for the first time and turned Baboo purple every time he was mad, I knew the kitty was here to stay.

"Well, I could say it slipped, but we all know that'd be a lie anyways. Why bother?" and with that she got up and sashayed her annoying small ass out the dorm.

"Don't mind her. She's just awful in the mornings," a pretty redhead said, sitting up in her bed and yawning with her arms stretched out behind her, her cropped t-shirt rising up to her belly-button. I looked at her, my eyes squinting as I tried to make out who she was. She looked vaguely familiar. A splay of freckles across her nose, sea blue eyes that shined with mischief and knowledge, and a perfect smile that just brought all that out in her tugged at my memory. A wide grin spread across my face as I remembered the talkative girl from last night. What was her name again? Renee? Rachel? Rashondra? I snorted to myself. Yeah, like her freckled ginger ass would be named Rashondra.

"I'm pretty sure she's just awful all the time," I mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes with one hand and scratching Baboo under his chin with the other. I could feel the vibrations of his purrs against my fingertips.

Another redhead was sitting on the edge of what's-her-name's bed, laughing to herself. She had flaming thick red hair that glinted a deep scarlet in the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. She looked younger than Talkative Girl but there was definitely a family resemblance.

"She's only been here maybe twelve hours and she already has Heather pegged perfectly. How long did it take you Rose? Five years?"

That's right! Her name was Rose! I suck at names. Always have, always will. I called Connor, my big brother, Kanye for a few months back in Pre-K.

Rose responded gracefully by lifting one of her mile-long legs and kicking the younger ginger off her bed. The girl landed on the floor with an 'umph' before grumbling and rubbing her ass in complaint and going to sit down on Heather's empty bed.

"I'm Lily," she said with a bright, friendly smile as she tucked a loose red wave behind her ear, extending one hand out for me to shake. I carefully examined her hand from afar, eyeing it carefully and making sure there wasn't anything wrong with this oddly friendly girl. I shrugged once I couldn't find anything wrong with it and shook it gingerly. Haha, get it? _Ginger_-ly. I crack myself up.

Lily eyed me like I was some kind of creeper as I snorted to myself.

"Ummm... Okay then," she slipped her hand out of my grasp and wiped it on her robes like whatever disease I must look like I have was contagious and she did _not_ want it.

"Shit!" Rose screeched, flailing her arms around and jumping out of bed to her wardrobe. She started yanking the drawers open madly and rifling through them, sending blouses, quidditch robes, and stockings flying across the room. She yanked on a pair on brown panty-hose type things with a hole in the back. As she pulled them up her long legs hastily, the hole just got bigger and bigger to the point where the entire backside of her knee was bare. Then she jumped around the room one one foot, trying to slide her amazonian legs into a gray pleated skirt. She threw on a thin white blouse (already ironed pin-straight) and fumbled with the buttons a bit before noticing our estranged gazes were on her.

"WHAT ARE YOU PRATS STANDING AROUND FOR?" she yelled frantically, tugging her long thick hair up roughly and twisting it before fastening it to her head with a huge clip. Lily and I exchanged glances before a a pretty girl with fair skin, baby blue eyes, and short, wavy, blonde hair entered from the bathroom. She had a bowl of cereal in her hand and with one look at my scary, obviously psychotic roommate the spoon she was holding up to her mouth was dropped in surprise and clanged loudly against the ceramic bowl, sending a splash of milk and bits of Count Chocula sprawling across her baby-blue pajama top.

"What is wrong with you? It's the first day of studies and you're already freaking out like you forgot to study for O.W.L.s or something," she said, clearly irritated. Rose's head snapped up and she ran over to the girl with a weak nervous smile twitching on her lips.

"I'm late for my meeting! McGonagall is going to kill me! And I have to deal with the stupid bitch of a Head Girl and that dickhead of a Head Boy! I need to go!"

"Um, Rose?" I said, noticing something weird.

"I have no time! Bye guys!" She said, bursting out of the dorm. The two girls and I shared a look. She was in deep shit.

Albus's POV

This was stupid. Just because my dad saved the wizarding world it doesn't mean that I want to wake up at seven and go to stupid prefect meeting where we'll discuss what kind of filling should be in the tarts this year.

I flicked my wand lazily at the heavy oak doors of Markin's classroom. Defense Against the Dark Arts was seriously boring. Hate to sound cocky, but being Harry Potter's son, I was pretty much set for life in the D.A.D.A. department. The doors swung open and I sauntered through them. The long wooden table was set up like it usually was, adorned with fruit, yogurt, skyscrapers made of pancakes, and basically every cereal every made. Sitting around the huge slab of ancient wood that once belonged to the original Womping Willow were six other prefects and Head Girl, Shanaya Bingham. The Head Boy had basically been given away to Scorpius and he was sitting next to Shanaya. I didn't even have to hear what he was saying to know he was hitting on her. If it walks on two legs and is female, Scorpius Malfoy will attempt to have sex with it. Shanaya was practically giving him the okay, smiling and running her fingers down his arm. I saw Scorp shiver and the girl let out a light laugh. She probably thought she was a pro at the art of suduction. Well, hate to burst your bubble, but people running their fingers up Scorp's arm remind him of the pedophile clown that attended his eleventh birthday party. Me being his best friend I know these things.

The room quieted down as Minnie entered behind me. I took my seat next to the other Slytherin prefect Matt Bancroft. Scorp excused himself from Shanaya and stood up. As soon as he turned around to walk away he was breathing a sigh of relief. I stifled my amusement as Minnie began to drone on about the Christmas Committee in a few months. I heard the slight screech of the chair next to me being pulled out and saw Scorp sit down out of the corner of my eye.

"Creepy clown molestor?" I guessed, a slight smirk gracing my face. Scorp shuddered again in response and I let out a light laugh under my breath so Minnie wouldn't hear.

Oddly reminiscent of last night, the doors to the D.A.D.A. classroom swung open and in entered a psycho. No, not Weird Chick, but my cousin Rose.

Merlin what is she wearing?

"I'm so sorry Professor! I lost track of time and then I had to herd a bunch of first years to Herbology and _then_that new American girl Chandler Harris lost her-"

Rose stopped talking when she noticed everyone's eyes on her, particularly a certain region of her.

"What?" she asked hesitantly, frantically running her hands over her pulled-back hair. "Is there something wrong with my hair?"

"Not your hair..." I heard Matt Bancroft mumble next to me. I wanted to turn around and punch him in the face but was too stunned by my cousin's rather unfortunate choice of dress this morning. Thankfully, I heard the satisfying cry he made when Scorp's elbow jabbed him right on a rib for me. I still couldn't look away. This was horrible. At the same time I wanted to burst out laughing.

"What?" she insisted, spinning around and revealing a huge whole in her panty-hose-thingies. I couldn't help it. A few bubbles of laughter escaped. This was too perfect. Always proper Rose Weasley was looking more than slightly disheveled right now and I was loving it.

"My _God_Weasley!" Scorp shouted next to me, laughing slightly as he said it. "Cover up why don't you? These poor blokes haven't seen anything that R-rated since... well, _never_, and if you're not careful they might get a little handsy."

Scorp could be such a git sometimes, but that still didn't stop me from losing it, along with the rest of my fellow prefects. We watched as the lightbulb suddenly went off above Rose's head and she slightly moved her gaze down to her chest, where her neon pink bra was practically glowing from within the thin white confides of her blouse. To make things slightly worse she'd missed a button on her shirt in a very precarious spot and was basically flashing half the class. She turned a very unattractive shade of very Weasley red and seemed to freeze in the spotlight of everyone's attention. Revenclaw's git prefect Blake Aunsers was practically drooling as he gawked at her, no doubt seeing 'girl parts' for the first time. Surprising everyone in the room, even me, Scorpius stood up, picking his Slytherin Quidditch jacket up from off the back of his chair before kicking the stool out from behind him. He waltzed over to my cousin, slapping Blake hard on the back of his head as he did. Aunsers started choking on his own drool. Serves him right, that whore.

Scorp finally reached her. She looked up at him slowly, shocked and not quite sure of what he was about to do. And then he did something none of us saw coming. He draped his jacket over her lightly and adjusted it so no one could see anything. Rose's eyes widened at the mere touch of his fingertips, shocked to the very core he was actually being nice and not assaulting her. He stood there for a few breathless moments and let her stare at him dumbfounded before letting out a long, tired sigh like the drama queen he was. He sent a pointed look to the heavy wood doors behind the two of them and waited expectantly for Rose to catch on. In her shocked state she followed his gaze and stared at her getaway quizzically. Scorp just rolled his eyes and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcefully turning her around. Then he placed his hands lightly on the small of her bak and gently pushed towards the exit, causing her to stumble forward a bit. She seemingly fell out of her trance and whispered something harshly to him. He just smirked a bit and shrugged. Rose responded by hightailing it out of there. Scorp just calmly walked after her, his hands in his pockets. He stopped at the doorway for a split-second, his wand out at his side. He looked at me over his shoulder before flicking his wand so it was undetectable to anyone but me. I felt and heard a paper start crumbling into a ball in my pocket and nodded at him. He nodded back before continuing to walk after my cousin's fleeting figure.

After everyone had collected themselves, especially a downright incredulous Minnie, and no one was paying attention to me but instead engaged in heated conversations about this year's Christmas Committee, I pulled the paper ball out of my pocket. I held it in my hands above my lap under the table and slowly startled to uncrinkle it, trying to draw the least amount of attention to myself with the noise. Within a few seconds I had it unwraveled and slouched down in my chair to read it under the table.

_ Don't worry. I'll take care of her._

Chandler's POV

"These chicks don't even know the name of my band," I sung as I did the Egyptian down the hallway.

"But they're all on me like they wanna hold hands. Cause when I blow, they know that I'll be the man. All because I'm the lead singer of my band." I had moved onto the Sprinkler by this point.

"My band"-disco point-"my band"-stanky leg-"my band"-dougie-"my band"-and I end with a pirouette.

I had been looking for Baboo of hours, and that little kitty was nowhere to be found. Baboo doesn't like it when I dance with him; he just meows in a grumpy, disapproving manner. But I secretly think he loves the Salsa!

As I line-danced down the hallway, I heard a sound coming from one of the empty classrooms. Baboo? When I opened the door, I came face to face with something a little less feline. Rose and Scorpius were currently making out, both their shirts on the ground and Rose pushed back on top of a desk, Scorp's hand dangerously inching it's way up to her hemline.

"Oh my gosh! What do you guys do in these Prefect meetings?" I asked, closing the door behind me. They both stopped what they were doing and stared at me. Then, a second later, they were scrambling to put their clothes back on, hopping to pull shoes on and fingers fumbling clumsily over buttons.

"Ohmygod! Guess what I just thought of? Ring-around-the-Rosy has a wittle boyfriend now! I'm so happy! I won't have to yell 'RAPE' when I see Scorpo in the hallways anymore!" I clapped my hands animatedly and went in for a high-five. I didn't get one. Instead, Scorp raised a creeped-out eyebrow.

"Listen, Chandler, you can't tell anyone." Scorpiosa said, looking me in the eye. Woah there buddy. No need for the intense stare. You look like Baboo when he wants food. Especially pickles.

"We're serious, Chandler. If somebody found out, all of Hogwarts would know within five minutes. They think we hate each other-"

"Which we do," Scorp interrupted, sending me a pointed, almost slightly desperate look.

"And we intend to keep it that way." Rose seethed through her teeth, glaring at Scorpius. He nodded, but didn't look too thrilled.

"It didn't seem like you hated each other when Scorpy had his hands up your skirt." I said, laughing. I'll admit, it sounded more than slightly maniacal. Rose blushed and Scorpius let out a long sigh.

"That is not the point. Promise you won't tell anyone? Especially Al?" Scorp asked me.

"Is Al the one who has a pretty stomach and told me where to get food?" I asked, confused. I get people mixed up a lot. One time I mistook some stranger in the park for Ronald McDonald and my mom had to come find me, haul me out of his/her (to this day I still can't tell)'s van, and now Aunt McDonald is vacationing in prison for about, oh, I don't know, maybe five more years? It was really awkward, but she had candy, so it was all good! Then again, rapists have 'candy' too, if you know what I mean. I can't eat butterscotch candies anymore because of her. Scarred. For. Life.

Rose laughed uneasily and nodded.

"Yep. That would be my cousin. But he can never find out Chandler," she said very seriously as she placed her hands on my shoulders and locked gazes with me. It was making me really uncomfortable... "Scorpius here is Hogwart's cheapest prostitute and if Al found out I was da-" she stopped, suddenly not so sure of herself as she caught her almost-slip-of-the-tongue, "well, whatever we're doing here, he would be pissed off and overreact. He'd think Scorp was using me, or I was using him-" Scorpius snorted to himself and muttered something that sounded an awful like "Yeah right. Like that would ever happen," underneath his breath. Rose just ignored him and continued. It didn't seem like they really liked each other that much. "And he'd probably make me get tested because honestly, who knows where this street-trash has been."

"Who are you calling street-trash? Your mum's a mud-blood!" Scorpius said indignantly, fury obvious in his eyes.

"Yeah, and your dad was once a ferret. Get over it," Rose spouted, rolling her eyes in annoyance. Scorpius opened his mouth to no doubt let loose another witty retort about Rose's family's apparently adulterated bloodline when I butted in.

"Excuse me, but if he's as much of a harlot as you're making him out to be," I started, talking to only Rose now. Fancy vocabulary for the win! "then wouldn't it not be too bad of an idea to get tested?" Rose opened her mouth to no doubt explain why no, this in fact was not a good idea, when she suddenly realized I had a good point and her teeth snapped shut against each other. She turned to Scorp and looked at him with a mixture of suspicion, anxiety, and curiosity.

"He's also my best friend and Rose's cousin," Scorpers butted in, saving Rose from my righteousness yet at the same time downright ignoring her. "He would feel really betrayed if he found out we weren't telling him. And you wouldn't want him to find out you were the one who found out first before he did, would you Chandler?" I thought about it for a split second before shaking my head no like a mad woman, my hair whipping my cheeks.

"We need sort this out for ourselves first before we have people like Al preaching to us about it and looking down on us like they know everything, okay?" Rose said reasonably, looking at me for confirmation.

"If that's what cooks your peas," I shrugged, letting all this new information roll right off my shoulders so I could over-analyze it later. Alone. Where no one could see me spaz. "By the way, have any of you seen Baboo?"


	3. Moontrimmers, Guac Offs, and Green Candy

**Al's POV**

"Pass me the oatmeal?" I asked Scorp, pointing to the silver dish to his right. He passed it to me, giving it a look of disgust. One thing you should know about Scorp is his hatred for oatmeal. When he was younger, his mum's sister used to make it all the time when Scorp used to visit her every summer. She was a great aunt, but her obsession with stuffing oatmeal down his throat wasn't exactly his favorite quality in her.

"It looks like rotting elephant shit," he said.

"Thanks, mate." I said sarcastically. "Sadly for you, I love elephant shit. I also enjoy duck shit." Then I took a big spoonful and chewed with my open. Scorp looked like he was about to barf, until he randomly started laughing at something behind me. I turned around to see Wacko walking towards us with an optimistic grin and her head in the clouds. I didn't understand why Scorp was laughing until I saw what she was wearing. Her dark Gryffindor-encrested sweater and black pleated skirt looked fine on her, but her frilly knee socks with bright, peppy gumdrops on them were quite hysterical. When she saw us, her face lit up like one of Liam Finnigan's heretical explosions and she skipped over. On her way over, she managed to kick a poor, unsuspecting hufflepuff in the shin, spill juice on two of her fellow Gryffies, and get called some pretty nasty things by my fellow housemates. Not that I blamed them or anything. After one day this 'Chandler Harris' chick and her neurotic cat had managed to convince the entire campus they were more loony than Aunt Luna and the Scamander twins combined.

"Hey best friend!" She said to Scorp, sitting down next to him and taking his bagel right out of his hands as he was spreading it with cream cheese. Before he could protest, however, Chuck Morton sauntered up to us. Chuck was the captain of the Hufflepuff quidditch team, and he didn't let you forget it. He was probably the biggest man whore of the whole school, which was really saying something, because unlike my mate Scorp, he felt no shame in shagging girls lower than fifth year- which just so happened to include my little sister. Arsehole.

"Hello, Chuck." I sighed, hoping he would go away. The guy was a pain in the arse.

"Hey, Albus. Why, who is your new lady friend?" He said, quickly changing the subject and bringing his attention to Chandler, who was currently making shapes out of her pancakes. When she sensed we were all looking at her, she looked up.

"Hi, I'm Chandler Harris!" she said happily, holding out her hand. Chuck took it, staring at her boobs when she leaned over to shake it. What a dickhead.

"I think I'll call you Harris," Chuck said with an admittedly grotesque smile. I literally cringed at the amount of cheesiness that must run through his blood. I saw Scorp shudder out of the corner of my eye. Ah, so now Chuck Morton was on his list, probably inching his way up to being one of the Greats along with the Creepy Clown Molestor and Sky Brown, the Ravenclaw a year below us who has stalked Scorpius since her first year, even following him into the men's room on more than one occasion.

I chanced a glance at Chandler to find her completely reserved, still smiling back into his rat face kindly like he shit butterflies or something. There was something off about her admittedly pretty smile. Although her cheeks were flushed like a freaking virgin schoolgirl and her goofy, almost smitten grin was still stretched across her face, her eyes were strangely cold. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Then again, this was slimy Chuck Morton, the guy who had a goal to shag every girl at Hogwarts before he graduated that he didn't deem to be ''too young' by his standards. And sadly, he was succeeding.

"Then I think I'll call you Mr. Buncombe," she said sweetly, her voice laced with hint at an innuendo. Now it was becoming more noticeable, that cold, heart-stopping poison in her eyes. Only a true idiot wouldn't notice it, and this was the one thing I can promise you Chuck Morton was capable of being.

Chuck's eyebrows shot up a bit at her comment. I'm pretty sure none of us knew what the he'll she just said even meant, so we all just assumed like the men we were that it was something sexual. Chuck's mouth lazily spread into a smile that I can only assume was that of a whore. Seriously. I could almost feel the STD's being spread through the air.

"Don't you have a certain Quidditch Tryout you need to be attending Chuck?" Scorpius said, boredom and annoyance thick in his voice. Chuck's gaze turned to slice into him but Scorp just lazily flipped him off from behind Chandler's back.

"Wouldn't want the infamous Chuck Morton to miss the Quidditch Trials he himself was hosting just because of little ole me, now would we?" Chandler said in a mockingly southern-sweetheart tone. Chuck turned his attention back to her with one of his thousand-watt smiles. Chandler just looked at him like she was melting to putty in his hands, but I could see where she was going with this. She didn't believe his crap for one second. Maybe she's not so much of a nutter after all...

"Damn I wish you were a Hufflepuff," Chuck muttered heatedly, his eyes gleaming in the most sick sense of the word. Wait. What just happened? Did she just- Holy Hell. She did.

Chandler Harris just giggled at him.

"Well, I best be going. Wouldn't want to miss the Trials, especially with me being captain and all that," he said, really laying it on thick now. WHY WON'T THE PRAT JUST FUCKING LEAVE ALREADY!

Chandler batted her eyelashes at him and wiggled her fingers goodbye at him. He winked back at her before leaving, running a hand through his brown hair as he left and Chandler letting out one last satisfying giggle.

As soon as he was gone, the smile dropped from her face in a flash and she shoved Scorp's bagel in her mouth, taking a ginormous bite before throwing it back down on the plate with a huff. She slid down in her chair and narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"Fucking tosser," she muttered after she gulped down the bagel. Scorp and eye exchanged glasses before bursting out laughing. She looked at us worriedly- almost embarrassed- for half a second before her face slowly stretched into a relaxed, true grin, one that actually reached her deep brown eyes and made them gleam.

After Scorp and I pulled it together, we stood up and grabbed our books to head for class. I held out my hand to Chandler and she looked up at me weird for a moment. Almost like she was in pain...?

"It's a damn hand Chandler. You're supposed to take it."

Her eyes darted to my hand for a split-second before she let a small smile escape and she took it, letting me help her up. The three of us started walking to our first class together when Scorp tossed his arm around her.

"You're actually not so bad Nutter."

Chandler let loose some kind of laugh that was a toss between a snort and maniacal laughter.

"Duh."

"Um, Chandler, what does buncombe mean exactly?" I asked her nervously, prepared to wretch. She laughed a little to herself before answering.

"Basically, it means bullshit."

Scorp and I let loose howls of laughter. She was a genius. A twisted, maniac, more than slightly nuts genius who apparently had a weird obsession for odd knee socks, but a genius none the less.

"Is he always such a prick, or was today just a special occasion?"

And that was how Chandler Harris went from the psycho nutter Gryffindor who eye-raped me while shirtless and made people choke on their own toothpaste, to being slightly bearable and even slightly a badass. She was still batshit crazy though.

"So, Albs, I heard you guys are having Quidditch try-outs this afternoon?" Chandler asked me as we walked out of Charms with Scorp, an excited gleam in her dark eyes. I knew there were American Quidditch teams (I mean, England and America were well-known rivals. They have been for quite some time now), but I didn't think Chandler was the kind who would be interested in Quidditch.

"Yeah, all the teams are having them today." I answered, only half way paying attention. I had other things on my mind, like the dirty-mess this year's Quidditch try-outs were going to be. On one hand I was excited, and on the other I was seriously dreading this afternoon. Excited because, hey, it's Quidditch, and dreading it because of the lousy-ass captains. First off, Quidditch meant I'd have to see and quite possibly talk to Chuck Morton. I'd rather have Sky Brown shove her tongue down my throat, throw myself off the Astronomy Tower, and then get eaten by the Giant Squid than have to so much as hear his slimy voice again, but sadly, it's inevitable. His slutty ass is EVERYWHERE.

"Do you play?" Scorp asked, snapping me out of it.

"Maybe," Chandler said, waggling her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips. "Do you guys know Connor Harris?" she asked a moment later, quite mysteriously I might add. Okay, so now she had my full attention.

"Of course!" I said. Everybody knew who Connor Harris was. He was America's best Quidditch player and the seeker for the Harrisburg Hounds. I'd bet all my apple Bertie Bott's Beans that more than ninety percent of their games were won because of him. I'm pretty sure Lily had a picture of him on her wall. What a traitor.

"Wait a second," Scorp said, catching on before I did, "is he your brother?"

"Yep," Chandler said, nodding her head proudly, "Big Bro taught me everything I know. Right now I gotta go give Baboo his crazy meds, buuuuttttttt," she said drawing the words out as she turned around and started walking backwards ahead of us, "I'll see you two on the field." Then she was gone, turning around and jogging off to the quidditch fields. We probably stood there for a good five minutes before Scorp finally said something.

"Do you think she's bullshitting us?" Scorp asked me, running a hand through his signature Malfoy hair. "She isn't exactly known for her credibility in the mental department. I knew she looked kinda familiar, but her being the sister of THE Connor Harris is pretty insane."

I thought about it for a moment, considering the two of them. They looked absolutely nothing alike at first glance. Chandler had outrageous tan skin, thick dark hair, was a little over five feet tall, and had eyes that rivaled night itself in color. Now that I think about, though, they did have a similar facial structure- with very similar cheekbones and the same jaw line.

"I actually think she's not kidding. But we'll just have to see. The field reveals all." I said a bit cryptically.

"That sounded so bloody stupid." Scorp said, and wacked the back of my head to prove his point. He still had a smile tugging at his lips though. Bloody hypocrite.

"HOLY-"

"SHIT." Scorp finished for me as we walked onto the field. We'd just reached the Quidditch pitch as the Gryffindor try-outs were coming to a close to find Chandler on her broom, racing through the air like you wouldn't believe. Her thick dark hair was pulled tight into a ponytail and was whipping her face as she zoomed past both beaters, leaving them wonderstruck like lightning had just struck right in front of their faces, which it kind of did. Her feet were tucked tightly beneath her broom- some sleek red thing I'd never seen the likes of before (which is really saying something since I'd been immersed in the world of Quidditch practically since my first breath). The Quaffle was currently being hugged tightly to her body with one arm, the other arm stretched across the smooth shaft of her broom, steadying it as she darted through the air, rivaling the speed of a muggle bullet. Before the Keeper even knew what was happening, Chandler had already flown the entire expanse of the field and was throwing the Quaffle into the top hoop with outstanding force, which is odd considering she had freakishly skinny and lean arms. The poor Keeper basically just watched it zip into the goal above them; there was nothing my sister could do. In her defense, she usually plays Chaser, but still. It was pretty pathetic.

Scorp and I were just as dumbfounded as we watched her for the next ten minutes, distracted from what we were actually supposed to be doing, which was planning out our trials and setting up. Oh well.

She dropped her broom at a frightening speed and dove after the Quafffle as it fell through the hoop and to the ground. She was actually attempting to score another goal all by herself without letting the ball drop or having a teammate pass it to her. Like I've been saying, the chick is batshit crazy.

Holy Merlin. She did it. She caught the bloody thing before anyone got even close. Now she was racing straight upwards to the goal at a ninety-degree angle, right up to the sky. She was literally a foot in front of the goal when her broom halted as swiftly as it had darted off. I really needed to get me one of those.

Chandler basically dominated the entire field. If you weren't desperately trying to keep up with her, you were paralyzed, star struck even, and watching her with awe. She zoomed across the pitch, back and forth, back and forth, until most of the players had just given up. Most of the school had gathered to watch her play as class had ended- hold on. I lifted up my right hand dreamily- still caught in a Chandler-induced daze- and snuck a peak at the watch my father had given me residing on my wrist. Class had ended ten minutes ago. We had five minutes to set up. Eh. We'd manage somehow.

The Gryffindor players felt so dejected and tired, many just from plain watching Chandler, so now players from all the Hogwarts' houses were lining up to get a chance to face off against the American girl. And shocker- Check Morton was first in line, already jumping on his broom and flying up the pitch to where Chandler was. DAMN! She just scored another 10 points. Pretty sure that's 70 points in the last five minutes. This girl was good. No, I take that back. This girl was legendary. I expected her to be good, but not THIS good. And by looking around at everyone else's faces, they didn't either. Who knew Wack-Attack could be so good at something besides buying the weirdest socks around?

Now I would have thought that just witnessing something this extraordinary would have been the highlight of my day, but no, it wasn't even close. The highlight of my entire week was what happened next.

Chuck was sneaking up behind her, no doubt thinking he was just so clever, attempting to silently and swiftly swipe the Quaffle out of her steady, stealthy hands. He was about to latch his grubby hands onto the leather sphere when Chandler suddenly swung around, the end of her broom pounding the bloke so hard in the face that it sent him spiraling down the pitch, halfway off his Firebolt New Millenia. It took me a few seconds to grasp what happened before I started laughing so hard I was bent in half, clutching my stomach like I was trying to hold myself together. A few moments later I sobered up to see Chuck gaining back control of his broom and swinging his legs back over the side. He grumbled and grimaced a bit, his hands flying up to his hair to straighten it up a bit like the real man he was. He was about to go full murder-rampage mode on Chandler when a said loony American dove out of the way of an incoming Bludger and it him square in the stomach, effectively knocking him out for who knows how long. A week? A month? Forever (fingers crossed)? It did seem to hit him pretty damn hard...

The entire female population gasped in horror as their favorite asshat fell to the ground in a heap, barely being rescued from the possible brink of death when Hugo Weasley stopped him mid-air with his wand a few yard above the ground, keeping him in a levitated state before effectively letting him drop the rest of the way. No crushed skulls, but at least some internal bruising. I guess I could live with that.

At this point I had lost any drop of shame I might have had dwelling in my blood and I literally fell to the grass of the pitch laughing, rolling around. And that was the end of the best Quidditch try-out known to mankind.

When the now legendary Nutter came to the ground, Rose landing beside her, I flicked my wand in their general direction and muttered an incantation under my breath, brazenly eavesdropping.

"You are definitely on the team, Chandler! That was amazing! I had no idea you could play so well!"

Chandler smiled, and mentioned her brother again. It made me pretty envious. James played professional Quidditch, but he had never shown me skills like THOSE. He'll, my own mother had played for the freaking HOLYHEAD HARPIES and my dad was Harry freaking Potter and I still was no match for Chandler. Well that will just have to change, won't it? I'd never lost a match before in my entire life. No a tournament, not a game, not a scrimmage, not even a snowball fight. You might say I had an issue with losing. And I might tell you that is the universe's largest understatement.

"I never knew how sexy you looked on a broomstick," a voice said from behind us, sleaze oozing from his words. Three guesses to who it was? That's right, folks. Chuckity McWhorePants has entered the pitch. Again. Everyone turned their attention to him, including Chandler, who looked pretty bored. But she put a fake smile on her face as soon as Chuck started flirting with her again.

"Oh my gosh, Chucky-bear I was so scared! I thought I'd killed you!" she began, rushing up to him in a pretend-frenzy. Chuck scoffed at her, his lip swollen to the point that he looked like a freshly (and overly) botoxed housewife or something.

"As if a dainty little thing like you could so much as pinch me. Please. My broom must have been hexed or something."

"The bludger too," Chandler added, trying to hold in her laughter. Merlin, he was thick.

"Exactly," he said, sighing with blithe at finding someone who apparently understood. Oh my God.

"So, I was thinking maybe I could teach you a few Quidditch pointers later?" he resumed, and I laughed. He suddenly turned to me, his eyes flaring in irritation.

"Something funny, Potter? That last name doesn't entitle you to everything, you know."

That immediately shut me up, sparks igniting inside me. I glanced to Chandler and saw her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"I think it's time we started try-outs mate. We're already running fifteen minutes late," Scorp said, tugging me on my arm and dragging me away before I started something.

"The list will be posted above the fireplace mantle in our common room tomorrow at five sharp and you will each be owled if you make the team. If your name is not on the list and you do not get an emerald letter from your owl, it's safe to say that no, you did not make the team and no, your letter did not get lost in the fucking mail."

All my housemates who had tried out were looking at me with wide eyes, hope glossing them over. And then there was Scorp, who looked like he was itching to leave. What a great best mate.

"IF you do indeed make the team' it is mandatory that you be at our first practice on Saturday at six am." A chorus of groans and whines filled the pitch and I quickly silenced them all with my famous death-glare. One time I did it to a poor first year who just did not know how to shut up and he actually held his breath to the point that he turned blue and fainted. Why did he hold his breath you ask? No bloody clue. But the point is is that my death-glare is some pretty serious shit.

"I don't care if your drink gets laced with some Weasley Wizard Wheezes' concoction at dinner the night before and you spend all night puking up Hagrid's shoes. I don't care if your long-lost half-sister from Romania that you've searching for your entire life shows up at the foot of your bed and an hour before practice. I don't care if that Basilisk thing from when my dad was a kid had freaking octuplets and you get cornered in the locker room and proceed to become paralyzed. I don't care if get freaking run over by a bloody hippogriff," I could feel Scorp glaring at the side of my face at this and I grinned in response. "You better be at that practice exactly on time to the very second. If you do not attend or are late for any reason whatsoever, even if it's by one measly minute, I will kick your ass of this pitch so fast you'll wonder if you were ever even here at all. The only possible excuse you could have that would save your spot on this team would be that Chuck Morton shagged your sister, best friend, or girlfriend and you just had to kick his ass, at which you will only be let off the hook if he came out of it severely messed up and perhaps shunned from the entire female population."

Everyone snickered at this, most even letting loose a few "hell yeahs" and one brave kid quickly became my favorite by muttering "I'll kick his ass AND be on time for practice". That's why I love being in Slytherin. They all share my hatred for Chuck-the-Slut Morton. Even the girls hated his punk ass, which is saying something because he's Chuck Morton.

"Of course, if you mutter any of this to any professor what so ever, I'll deny, deny, deny like Clinton. Are we clear?"

Every single person on the pitch nodded, even Scorp who I didn't even think was paying attention.

"I'll see a handful of you on Saturday at six am. Be prepared for a mile, suicides, and push-ups as a warm-up.". The chorus of groans erupted again as they dispersed, only Scorp staying behind to help me gather the balls and bats and clean up the field a bit. Or so I thought.

"Suicides, really? Ouch. Someone's a Quidditch nutter."

My head snapped around to find Chandler leaning on that odd broom of hers, propped up against the red-wood shaft. Her hair was still in its tight ponytail, little whisps hanging loose and framing her face from being wind-blown. Even during Quidditch she still wore knee socks, except these were actually not to appalling to the eye. They were just plain ole Gryffindor socks with thick maroon and gold stripes. The right one had a gaping hole in it surrounded by what looked to be a nasty grass stain. Huh. Must've missed that.

I grinned at her and she grinned back before walking up to me, pausing in her strides to pick up someone's empty sport drink before closing in on me and handing the plastic bottle to me. I dropped it in the trash bag I had in my hand.

"You're not really one to talk, now are you Nutter?" I teased. She just rolled her eyes at me and chuckled lightly. Except her chuckle sounded crazed and maniacal, just like her regular laugh.

"Can you two just go ahead and give each other Ring Candy so you can get married under the monkey bars at recess? I have places to be," Scorp said, agitated.

"Looks like someone took the hypocrite comment to heart," I mocked. Scorp just flipped me off before 'scourgifying' the entire field and sprinting off into the sunset. Okay not really, but you get the point.

"Well don't you just feel stupid," Chandler said with a smirk, gesturing to the magically clean field. I just grumbled under my breath about lazy rich kids and tied my trash bag closed. Chandler lifted up her left leg and slipped her hand underneath her sock, pulling out her wand before levitating my trash bag over to the dumpster behind the nearest stand.

"Before I forget," Nutter began, looking at me quizzically, "Chuck the Almighty Moron mentioned something earlier. He was probably just a little jumbled from being hit right in the face with my lovely baby child here," she motioned to her broom and I broke out in a grin, "but he said something about your last name. Why would that matter?"

I froze up. Did this mean that she...didn't know? But everyone knew! Surely even a whole continent away people knew about the Great War, right? I mean, my dad saved the whole entire wizarding world, not just the population in Europe. I thought his name would have been printed in every textbook ever printed after that day.

"You mean... You don't know about my family? About the Great War?" I asked slowly. This was too good to be true. If she really didn't know, did I want to corrupt my one chance at a clean slate by telling her? I guess she had a right to know, but then again, it was MY last name, not hers...

"I know about the Great War. Everyone knows about the Great War. We did a whole unit on it in Wizard History last year. But what does your last name have to do with any of that?"

She had to be joking. It was practically impossible to know anything about the Great War without knowing who the 'chosen one' is.

"Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? The Chosen One? Ring any bells?"

"Oh, of course! The Chosen One was the kid who defeated Voldemort when he was like seventeen or eighteen. Isn't he married to some ex-Harpie now?" she chattered away quickly, her eyes blank as they stared at me for conformation. I nodded. Okay, maybe Chuck Morton wasn't the thickest person I knew after all...

"Okay, I guess I'm going to have to spell this out for you Nutter. Umm... This could possibly take a while. You might want to sit down." So we did. Chandler laid her broom down softly right next to her and sat down, crossing her legs indian-style and picking at my beloved grass. I smacked her hand and began.

"The Chosen One went to Hogwarts and was in Gryffindor, just like you," her face brightened at this, "where he became friends with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger-"

"Wait, those are Rose's parents, right? Oh my gosh that is so cool! Her parents are friends with the Chosen One!" she squeaked, doing some weird little spastic happy dance. How could she know who Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger were, but not Harry Potter?

"Yes," I said slowly, afraid for her mental health now more than ever before. I might as well tell her. It would have come around at some point, whether my fan club got to her, one of her friends (if she had any) mentioned it to her, or she learned about it in Hogwarts History this year. "See, Ron had this little sister a year younger than he was, and her and The Chosen One fell in love and got married and yada yada yada. They had two kids, James, who plays for Puddlemere United now and..." I waited for the light bulb to go off, but it never did.

"And..." Chandler drawed out, waiting for an answer. I sighed tiredly.

"Look, the Chosen One's real name is Harry Potter. My last name is Potter. Albus S. Potter. I am Harry Potter, a.k.a. The Chosen One, and Ginevra Weasley's youngest son, and James is my oldest brother. Lily Potter is my younger and only sister, and you met her earlier. She was the pathetic Keeper. Do you get it now? Do you get why Chuck was being a complete and utter ass when he brought up my last name?"

I swear I thought Chandler had died on me for a second. Her eyes got real distant and her whole body went rigid and became what looked like to be paralyzed for a good minute or so.

"Nutter?" I asked weakly. "Nutter?" I tried again. Still nothing. "Chandler?" I prodded her with a finger gingerly in the arm and she came to life, wrapping her arms around me.

"That must suck," she said softly, her voice distant and cloudy like Aunt Luna's.

I thought about it for a moment.

"Yeah, it does. Did you know you're the only one besides my brother and sister who have ever got that? Everyone else thinks it'd be ablest to always be living under both your father's monstrous shadow and your brother's."

I realized a moment later that she still had her arms around me. What was worse was that I still had mine around her. I jerked back, completely taken back by what I had just said and done to this chick. She was mentally unstable and I'd just gone and blabbed away my deepest insecurity. Wow.

She looked slightly hurt and mostly surprised by my actions, but apparently she let it roll of her shoulders because a small smile lit her face.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone," she said quietly, genuinely.

And for some unknown reason, I believed her.

"It's getting kind of late," she observed out loud, glancing warily at the sky, suddenly much darker. I checked my watch. It was already seven-fifteen. We'd missed dinner.

"We were supposed to be inside the castle around an hour ago," I informed her. Crap. If I got detention for this, I might be the one who didn't attend that fist Quidditch practice.

"Crap," she said, mimicking my thoughts. She reached for her odd broom (I made a mental note to ask her about it later) and stood up before turning around and walking a few feet ahead, leaving me behind to watch her leave. She stopped suddenly, realizing I wasn't behind her, and turned her head to look at me. She jerked her head towards the castle, motioning for me to come along. And I did just that. We walked to the castle in silence, but this time it wasn't awkward.

**Chandler's POV**

"And oh, I've been travelin' on this road to long- just tryin' to find my way back home, but the old me's dead and gone, dead and gone."

After tickling that creepy pear and flinging the not-so-secret entrance to the kitchens open, I slid in to the room in my kitty-cat slippers, gliding against the floor with my wand lit-up in my mouth. As soon as I was in, I ducked and rolled against the floor like the badass I really am, somersaulting across the freezing cold floor of the kitchens up to the nearest island and hiding behind the wooden structure. I'm pretty sure I just bruised every vertebrae in my back, but you know, thaz coo. Ninjas and badasses don't feel pain until the morning after. Or was that drunk people…

Slowly I creeped my way up so I was crouched on my tippy-toes, my eyes just barely able to graze over the top of the island and check if the coast was clear. Coast, consider yourself checked and clear.

I stood up as carefully and turtle like as I dared, still scanning the premises with my cool gangster 20-20 night vision. In short, I couldn't see a damn thing besides what looked like a closed pantry door that someone had left the lights on in (do they have pantries in old Scottish castles full of magical house elves?) and what could quite possibly be a blender.

The dark gives me the heebie-jeebies, so I was grateful for the bright light my wand gave off. I let the glow bathe little parts of the room at a time. My eyes caught the glimmer of numerous silver bowls sitting out on the counter. I ran up to them, my stomach doing flips at the mere idea of food. After all I'd just spent an entire afternoon-straight out of my last class and up until I'd missed dinner- at stupid quidditch try-outs- where I must admit without any modesty that I DOMINATED. Thank Merlin for me having a Pro-Quidditch player for an older brother, even if he could be a total ass. Anyways, where was I? The bowls! That's right! Okay, so I ran up to them, my stomach and mouth thanking me for not completely neglecting them, when I saw the contents of the bowl. Fruit. Oh. My. God. It's fruit. After all that phenomenal (if I do say so myself) Chasing I just did, I deserve a fucking cake, and they're leaving out fruit for me to snack on? Healthy food, really? It was then that I blew my hair out of my face exasperatedly and began to forage in the cupboards.

"No more stress- now I'm straight. Now I get it. Now I take time to think before I make mistakes just for my family's sake. That part of me left yesterday. The heart of me is strong today," I sang to myself, busting out fully in song now and wiggling my hips overzealously to the nonexistent beat. I couldn't remember the next few lines so I just skimmed over them, humming to myself and every now and then mumbling incoherent, slurred words that might be able to pass for the real thing. Thank God no one was here to see this. Wait a second. Where were all the house elves anyway? Did house elves sleep, or were they nocturnal like bats. What if they were part vampire? What if one was down the hall right now, sucking the blood of some poor, unsuspecting hufflepuff that I can tell you right now will not be missed just so the creepy little thing could live another day? Oh my sweet Merlin. What if there's one right behind me?

Slowly I turned around on my heel, a box of Corn Pops I'd just found in a cabinet nestled in the crook of my arm with a handful of the stuff poised at my mouth, about to be devoured before I'd lost the train of thought. I know what you're thinking: Chandler, you beautiful, insufferable, American Quidditch goddess, there's no one behind you. That only happens in movies silly. Well WRONG! Because when I turned around, there indeed was the silhouette of some creepy-crawler who no doubts goes bump-in-the-night behind me. Like right behind me. So what did I do? I screamed like any remotely intelligent being with a fair amount of common sense would. I was scared shitless. My Corn Pops flew up into the air, the box spewing out the little yellow puffs like a freaking cereal volcano and eventually raining down on me and my undead killer like yellow snow. Okay, weird analogy there. Just ignore that last bit. Any who, the bunch that had been in my hand had been found their way down my shirt somehow and there were little golden, delicious puffs like clouds of heaven littering my hair and shoulders. I was about to start hightailing the hell out of there like a Barbie strapped to a rocket on wheels when the murderer's surprisingly warm hand shot out and his fingers wrapped around my wrist, a current of shocks going up my arm. That's it. I'm dead. He probably just flung a toaster at me or something and I got electrocuted and died.

"Will you just shut the bloody hell up already?" a familiar voice hissed into the darkness. It took me a second before my mind realized it wasn't fried from electrocution and matched a name and a face to the voice.

"Albus?" I asked cautiously and suspiciously. After all, he could still be a serial killer. Hahahahaha get it? Like cereal-killer? You know, 'cause of the Corn Pops… You know what, just never mind. My arm was starting to feel really tingly where his fingers were wrapped around it and I could feel goose bumps creeping up my neck. Wow. My body must really go into hyper-drive when in the face of a serial killer. Good to know...

"No," he said, laughing sarcastically into the dark, "it's Dumbledore."

Just to be sure, I raised my momentarily-forgotten wand and whispered 'lumos' again. The tip of my elegant wand lit up like a struck match and illuminated the face of one Albus Potter. Okay, so not a serial killer. Hopefully. I don't exactly know the kid that well.

I sighed in relief anyways, blowing whisps of my hair up out of my face. I whispered a spell under my breath hurriedly and the lights to the kitchen switched on, revealing a kitchen full of open cabinets and littered with things I'd dragged out of the cupboards. I noticed Albus sneak an estranged glance at me sideways.

"Uh, it was, um, the ghosts," I said meekly, my eyes darting to the open cupboards before grinning up at Albus with a sad little unsure smile. I'd seen both of the Paranormal Activities before I left Pennsylvania. This kind of weird crap happened all the time. Al must not have this knowledge because he snickered at me.

"Yeah, because I'm sure all the ghosts' dead, useless stomachs all of a sudden just started growling randomly at eleven at night," he said, leaning forward a bit to pick some Corn Puffs out of my hair, his brow denting a bit cutely. I bit my lip as a blush threatened to creep its way onto my traitorous face. I hadn't let a guy get so close to me since… Never mind.

I laughed nervously and he slowly retreated, eyeing me curiously. My gaze shifted to the floor, as I was suddenly very interested in the little specs of dust found speckling the tiles.

"Maybe they wanted to piss off the house elves…" I mumbled, making Al laugh. We fell into the death trap known as silence for a heartbeat or two before Al surprised me by breaking it first.

"You were bloody fantastic on the field today."

I looked up, shocked at the complement, to find Al grinning at me. If half his fan girls found out about this earth-shaking, time-shattering moment, I'd be skewered with my own broom and cooked over a fire in this very kitchen by this school's creepy house elves. Back in the States we didn't have house elves. Do you know what we did have though? Janitors and lunch ladies! Magical janitors and magical lunch ladies, but still.

"Thanks, Cap'n," I said cheesily, giving him a two-finger salute and making him smile at my quirkiness. He had a great smile, one with perfect movie-star teeth and dimples. I could definitely see why a good four-fifths of the female population at Hogwarts was in love with him to the point of stalking.

"Gryffindor'll be lucky to have you Harris. Hell, I'd put you as a Chaser on my own bloody team if it weren't for the fact that you're not even in my house," he said with a smirk, ruffling his hair with his fingers. It's official: there is no one cuter than Albus Whatever-his-middle-name-is Potter. Sadly, we weren't on a middle name basis yet. That can easily be fixed within the next twenty-four hours.

I was positively beaming now.

"And what about you Potter? Word on the field is that you've been the Slytherin captain since you were a fourth year! Not to mention the best seeker since your own dad and rumor has it you could rival even his talent. Pretty impressive," I said, raising an eyebrow as if daring him to disagree. Al just shrugged in response and his unbelievably green eyes following me as I skipped-slipped-and-skidded over to the table in the corner, pulling out a chair and jumping at the screech it made as it slid across the floor. I collected myself as best as I could and sat down, laughing nervously at myself and trying to brush off the embarrassment.

"Quidditch just runs through my blood I guess. I mean, my mum played for the Holyhead Harpies for years, all the way up until James was born, and my dad is Harry freaking Potter, so… Uh yeah." He was giving me yet another weird look, this one definitely judging my metal stability as his forest green eyes running me up and down as he judged me.

"I can kind of relate," I said genuinely, yet avoiding his gaze. Next thing I knew, a chair was being levitated out next to me and then Al was sitting next to me. I kind-of-sort-of-maybe gawked at him a bit before he rolled his eyes with a smile twitching at the corners of his lips before gesturing for me to go on.

Obviously I was related to Connor Harris- this information was well-known by now –but there was a reason no one knew we were siblings upon first glimpse. I looked absolutely nothing like my brother. Sure, okay, yes we maybe had a similar jaw line, but that was it. Where Connor had soft light hair and eyes with sun kissed, almost California Surfer tan skin and a thin, straight nose that came to a dull point, I had thick dark brown (almost black) hair and the same colored eyes, ridiculously tan, olive-ish skin, and a rather unique nose with a little bump in the bridge. I looked like the female version of my dad to a t, and my brother was a male carbon-copy of my mom. I inherited my dad's looks, love for reading, and obsession with the muggle media while my bother took after my mom's incredibly high intelligence, maturity, and boring goodie-goodie personality. Sadly enough, I was the mischief maker of the two of us, pasting all of my professors' ungodly underwear in a giant mural on one of the cafeteria walls back at the Young Magister's Academy at New York, transfiguring Charlotte Danforth's salamander into the Lockness Monster and letting it loose in the school's olympic swimming pool- while Swim Team was in session, and filling Tatum de la Tour's shampoo, body wash, and conditioner with Nair. Okay, that last one was absolutely horrible and on any other day with any other person I would have felt horrible. No, scratch that. With any other person I wouldn't have done it at all. But that girl was a raving bitch and deserved to be patchy in the hair department. I wonder if it's all grown back yet…

"I don't think having an amazing Quidditch player for a brother a continent away is as bad as being the Chosen One's kid," Albus stated, looking at me blankly. I rolled my eyes. The boy was such a drama queen.

"My brother's amazing, yeah, but we both get our Quidditch skills from my dad."

"Really?" Al's eyebrows raised in surprise. I nodded over-eagerly.

"Yep. Everyone in his family in the two generations before him had been muggles. Somehow he got the gene and his letter from the Salem Institute of Magic came in the mail on his eleventh birthday. His grandparents found out through the grapevine that he was now attending S.I.M. and flipped their shit, sending him all their old magic heirlooms from when they attended S.I.M. and were both sorted as Wardwells just like my father. One of those heirlooms was my great-grandpa's old broom, a Moontrimmer, model seven. Great-Grandpa Harvey used to be a guard at Azkaban before he retired, and he used a Moontrimmer to fly after convicts and such. And it was with this old, rickety broomstick that my dad flew his way onto the Wardwell Quidditch team as seeker, despite his unbelievably lanky stature."

"So is that why you fly so fast? Your grandpa chased down convicts with it and it had to be really fast?" Al asked me eagerly, his Quidditch-Nutter side showing itself again in his eyes as they gleamed.

"In a way. See, unlike me, my brother gets his smarts from my mom, who's an absolute genius. With her help, back when they were 'just friends', my father added some modifications and spiffed his Moontrimmer up a bit. He walked into that try-out with a practically brand new broom, the shaft of Womping Willow wood freshly stained and primed, the insignia re-done and glimmering brightly, the withered bristles replaced with a mix of dragon heart-strings and unicorn hair in the center, surrounded with plain old twigs. Supposedly a phoenix feather is even twisted into the core of the wood. I think that's a little ridiculous though. In short, that old 'vintage' Moontrimmer kind of became more of an oversized wand than a plain ole broomstick.

"My dad was and still is the best seeker Salem's ever seen. He went on to play for the Fitchburg Finches until he retired and moved us down to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania where I was born and raised. I've been playing Quidditch with my dad and Connor since I could wrap my legs around a broom, just doing it for fun every now and then."

"For fun?" Al said, absolutely flabbergasted. There's a word you don't get to use often.

"Yeah. I never really had the ambition to play. It was just something I enjoyed doing on the side. I'm not like my brother; my world doesn't revolve around flying. I made the team last year at the Y.M.A.N.Y. because my dad made me promise to at least try it out; see if I liked it. I did, but not enough to change my mind. Truthfully, I'd rather be an Auror."

"An Auror? Really?" I couldn't decide whether or not I should be offended by Al's shocked, condescending tone of voice. Apparently it showed on my face, because Al quickly started back-pedaling.

"No no no no no, I didn't mean it like that! It's just a little shocking is all," he said with a feeble smile.

"What about that is shocking?" I demanded, starting to get a little agitated. It's not that far of a stretch. Was it? Ugh, whatever.

Whenever I get frustrated I immediately get hungry, like right now for instance. As Al racked his brain for something, anything to say, I shoved my hands into my pockets harshly for effect and began to grumble as I rummaged through the trash cans that were my Penn State sweatshirt pockets, groping around for food.

"I don't know. I guess it's just that with Quidditch skills like yours it'd be a shame to throw 'em away on something like an Auror."

I snorted, taking out handfuls of trash out of my dad's old muggle sweatshirt and laying them out on the table for the world to see. Or, you know, just Albus Potter. That's cool, too, I guess.

"You're one to talk idiot. Your father's the head of the entire freaking Auror Department. And what about you? I'm pretty sure scouts from as far as the Toyohashi Tengu are already pissing their pants in excitement to sign the famed 'Albus Potter'," I said, breathily laughing. My laughter quickly grew nervous and died away at the look of scorn on Al's face. I immediately looked away and focused all my attention intently on my suddenly fascinating pile of pocket-garbage. Let's see, what do we have here? Hmmm… I rummaged through the pile now taking up a fourth of our little table. I could feel his gaze on me as I picked a curious object out of the waste.

"Huh."

"Are those fish flakes?"

"Yep. Sure are. Let's see… Tropical Flakes For Your Tropical Fish."

"I'm not sure if I even want to ask, but do you even own a fish?"

"Nope. Never have, never will. They give me the creeps."

A silence fell over us again and I awkwardly dove back into my ensemble of trash to avoid it. There were tons of little tufts of cat fur here and there amidst the sea of filth, along with dozens of candy wrappers from the creepy old ladies in the park I used to take Ty to, what looked like a few Canadian dollars and coins (I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN TO CANADA BEFORE!), and to my dismay, a whole pack of eye shadows lay in the middle, busted. I cautiously checked my hands. Yep. I'm covered in the stuff, my hands looking like I'm wearing tie-dye gloves.

"This is going to make me look like a complete hypocrite, but I don't want to play Quidditch either. At least, not once I leave Hogwarts," Al said out of nowhere, breaking my reverie along with the silence. I looked at him curiously and blinked my eyes stupidly.

Now that was something I couldn't believe. He's been on the Slytherin Quidditch team since he was a first year, captain since fourth year, and scouts didn't even need to come see him; they already knew they wanted to sign him.

"Wow."

"What?" he whined, letting his face fall dramatically against his arms lying flat on the table's surface. I laughed. He was SO dramatic!

"You are a hypocrite! And severely whiny, too!"

Al just looked at me with this look that was a cross between constipated and puppy-dog eyes before breaking out in a grin, his dark, deep eyes glittering.

I dug my hands back into my pockets as my laugh died away. My fingertips brushed something. Yes! I knew I had some form of food in here! I just knew it. I latched onto it and pulled it out, revealing it to be a mysteriously unopened bag of sour patch kids.

"What in Merlin's beard is that?" Al asked, incredulous, suspiciously probing the bag with a finger. I openly gaped at him. These were sour patch kids! These little nuggets of deliciousness and Hoarders are the only two truly ingenious and actually worth-while muggle inventions! This was… This was… Ha! I got it. This was blasphemy!

"What is this? What is this," I hissed at him, my voice cracking unattractively. I was pretty sure my left eye was twitching, too, "this, my poor, apparently ignorant Potter boy, is the single most amazing muggle invention known to man and wizard kind alike. These are sour patch kids. They are food. They are love. They are heaven coated in sugar and fat. They are freaking currency back in the States, and each package is like my own baby to me. A baby that I eat and devour with a ferocious intensity and then replace with a new, better baby."

"Ummm…"

"You have not lived until you have eaten a sour patch kid!" I squealed in delight, doing some odd happy dance with my upper half. I ripped open the package, lucky it didn't explode and the candies didn't go everywhere, a dug around.

"Here," I said excitedly, a hopeful smile etched into my face, holding out a candy. Al eyed it suspiciously. "Go on, take it! The red ones are the best. You should be honored I would even consider donating one to your lost cause."

"Sorry to burst your ecstatic American bubble," Al began with his nose upturned at the candy. I was sacrificing a baby for him and he turns his nose up at me. What an arrogant bitch… "but I have this weird thing with candy," he finished, admitting it all in a rush, sheepishly.

"What kind of weird are we talking about here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Not even close to your kind of weird Chandler," he said, laughing. I mockingly glared and stuck my tongue out of him. "Weird like I only eat green candy," he stated, quite snottily I might add, his nose wrinkling up. It made me want to give him a noogie for being so cute and at the same time punch that wrinkle right out of his nose.

"So you only eat apple candy? That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. Hell, that's a crime against nature! Everyone knows that the cherry candies are almost always the best."

"No, I don't just eat apple candy. That's absurd. I said I only eat green candy, like watermelon stuff, green M&M's, and yes, the occasional apple crap."

"Wow. That's a huge difference," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.

"It is! Fine, give me one of your sour ass kids or whatever their called. But it better be a green one," he warned, looking at me sternly. I just sighed and shook my head. And he had the nerve to call me Nutter...

My hand dug around the bag before grasping a handful of sour patch kids and I brought them out. I opened up my hand and examined it for a red one and a green one. Sure enough, there were four yellows (I seriously don't know why muggles insisted on making yellow candy. No one likes them anyways), two greens, and one red one. I handed over the two green ones and Al inspected them intensely before giving me an if-you-say-so look and popping them in his mouth. The effect was instantaneous.

Al's eyes widened as he swallowed, his gaze slowly shifting to me before snatching my bag of babies out from my hand and stealing all the green ones. Could that be considered racist? I think so.

I scoffed, horrified and pissed, before jumping out of my seat and lunging at him across the table, knocking a surprised Albus Potter to the ground. We writhed around a bit on the floor, laughing as we wrestled over the candy, which was actually half strewn across the floor by now. The bag was lying a foot in front of me but before I could lunge for it, Al practically climbed onto of me and crawled across me back. I grunted attractively before flipping him off of me and crawling on my knees towards it. Al's hand jutted out and yanked on my ankle, sending me back a few inches. I whined and he laughed at me. Well then. This was about to get a whole lot more interesting...

Next thing I knew, I had my legs wrapped around him piggy-back style and was covering his eyes with my hands so he blindly fumbled around, and he decided to play dirty and was playfully yanking on my thick braid of dark hair and sticking his tongue out and trying to lick my hands. Wow. Mature Potter. I was laughing along with him anyways when we heard a 'tsk' noise and we both froze up like statues. I removed my hands instantly out of embarrassment at being caught and we both slowly looked up to find a house elf looking at us disapprovingly. I let out a nervous laugh.

"Can I help you two?" the thing said in a snobby tone, glaring daggers at us. I thought house elves were supposed to be nice. I miss magic lunch ladies already...

"Um, yes actually. Thank Merlin, I'm starving! Uh, I'd like some..." I thought about it for a moment. What would any decent girl order to eat at eleven on a school night... Got it! "I'd like some guacamole and tortilla chips please," I stated, beaming. "Oh, and I prefer the regular colored ones please. The purple and red chips give me the heebie-jeebies. Oh, and I like it when the chips are circles so I can roll them around like wheels in my guacamole!". This was so exciting. Besides that one sour patch kid I got to eat, this would be my first American food in two days. God, I've missed it. How do these Brits live...

"Um, same here I guess," Potter said, still pressed up against me. Huh. I'd forgotten about that. I think it might be a little sad that in the midst of my guacamole excitement I forgot I had a real, breathing, human, hot wizard boy pressed up against me. I don't quite know what to think of that.

The creepy little troll/elf thingy just huffed and puffed a little before stomping away to conjure up some deliciousness.

"Well then!" Al said from beside me. I laughed awkwardly before darting up so I was standing and offering a hand to Al. He grinned up at me and the furious blush no doubt covering my entire freaking body before taking my hand. Dear Merlin the boy weighed a ton! I staggered backwards a few steps, running my back painfully into the island. I muttered something unintelligible about magical slippery floors underneath my breath before walking back to the table, which was now completely littered by trash and a colorful variety of smushed sour patch kids. Al looked at it mournfully before coming to sit with me.

We sat there in silence, basically twiddling our thumbs until the house elf huffed and puffed its way over to the table and set a ginormous bowl of bite-size rounded tortilla chips in front of us and a big bowl of amazingly green guacamole. Al looked at the stuff approvingly before diving in. I stole the bowl when I saw his eyes widen. We did NOT need a repeat of the sour patch kids incident with something as precious and savory as guacamole.

Al sputtered out a string of unidentifiable words that sounded a lot like "umphggg".

"This is amazing!" he said happily, screeching like one of his own fan girls and waving his arms madly through the air like he was being electrocuted or something. "This... This is... There aren't words to describe what this is. What is it?"

I laughed at his cute ignorance of all things necessary and absolutely amazing.

"It's called guacamole and it deserves to be treasured with your life," I said, starting out with a smile, but quickly growing serious as I stood up and harshly jabbed my finger into Al's chest. He looked up at me like a kicked puppy and rubbed his chest. I huffed in approval and sat back down, crossing my legs like boss.

"I think I'm in love," he said earnestly, looking at his guac-coated chip like he'd just found world peace. I snorted.

"Join the club buddy. I love that stuff like Chuck Morton loves his own reflection."

Al raised an eyebrow at me, sensing a non-existent challenge and determination burning bright in his emerald eyes.

"Yeah? Well I love it like..." he trailed off, searching his thoughts. At this rate he'd never win. No one could beat me in a guac-off. No one. Suddenly Al snapped his fingers in triumph. "Like a hobo loves shopping carts!"

I laughed heartily at his attempt to outdo me. It just cannot be done.

"Me and guacamole are tighter than a fat guy in spandex," I stated calmly with an air of arrogance, even giving him a legit head nod. Like a boss.

He was going down. He honestly had no idea how much I loved this stuff. This was a fight to the death.

Al snickered at me.

"I love this guacamole stuff like an emo guy loves girl jeans."

I scoffed. This was ending now.

"Well I love guacamole like pigeons love old people on park benches!" I said heatedly. I think my eye was twitching now. Al got all in my face as he ended our quarrel of slightly offensive but amazing one-liners.

"I LOVE GUACAMOLE LIKE A FAT KID LOVES CARROTS!" he shouted. I laughed like a maniac and grinned slyly in victory at him.

"What?" What he'd just said made no sense whatsoever.

"Because you must really love carrots to get fat off 'em."

I gaped at him. That was pure gold. I was so dumbfounded by the sheer awesome of his last statement that I couldn't even think at all, much less come up with a retort. I'd... lost. What had the world come to? I love guacamole like a fat kid loves carrots, because you must really love carrots to get fat off of them. Damn.

"Check. Mate," he said cheesily, grinning at me. I wanted to slap that grin off his face so bad.

"I'm pretty sure you can't say that outside of chess moron," I grumbled under my breath, shoving a huge amount of guacamole into my mouth. I've failed you oh great guacamole. I don't deserve to have your deliciousness grace my mere mortal taste buds any more.

"Aw, come on Harris. Don't be a sore loser!" he said mockingly. I slowly and menacingly lifted my gaze back to him to find his smug face smirking at me. Oh hell no.

"You know what? Eat this Potter!" I shouted, dipping my fingers in the guacamole (Oh dear Guacamole god of all things savory and tasty, forgive me for I have sinned) before quickly and stealthily leaning across the table and smearing it all over Al's gray 'Wood's Quidditch Supply Co.' t-shirt.

"Oi!" he shouted, standing up angrily. He looked at me, actual anger clear in his eyes, before they flashed and glinted mysteriously at me.

"Oh no," I began, shaking my head and stumbling backward a few steps.

"Oh yes," he said, a new smirk lighting his face, a light-hearted I'm-an-evil-genius-so-prepare-to-die smirk, "Payback time."

I shook my head even more fiercely, my eyes begging him not to do this.

"Come on Potter. It was just a joke. Please don't do this. Please, please, please," I pleaded unashamedly. He just shook his head no triumphantly.

"Nope. Now when people speak of this day, the day that Albus Severus Potter-" Aha! So Severus was his middle name! Hell yeah to middle name basis biatches! I bet his fan club is trembling in rage right now... "defeated and conquered Chandler-" he paused then, clearly waiting for me to say something. I looked up at him quizzically. He just sighed and deflated considerably in response. "You're supposed to say you're middle name now Chandler."

"Oh," I said brilliantly, feeling slightly bad for ruining his ego-inflating speech. "Michele. Chandler Michele Harris."

"Right. The day Albus Severus Potter defeated and conquered Chandler Michele Harris in a guac-off to the death. Not literally, but still. It sounds cooler and manlier that way."

"I'm battling really hard right now to repress my urge to roll my eyes at your dramatics Potter. I seem to get these urges a lot around you, see, and I really don't want to contract some sort of weird eye twitch-rolly thingy from doing it so much," I said coolly, crossing my arms in front of my chest with a smirk.

"I'm sure that's not the only urge you get when you're around me Harris," he said, winking at me. What an asshole. I laughed none the less.

"Yeah, and if I gave into these supposed 'urges'-" I heavily used air quotes around this word, "I'm sure an eye twitch isn't the only thing I'd contract," I finished, raising an eyebrow at him. Al just bit back laughter and feigned hurt.

"Why, my dear Chandler, how could you? And I thought you were a lady! I guess I was wrong," he sniffled. I laughed at him right before he caught me off guard and paid me back for my little guacamole-on-the-shirt stunt, dumping the whole bowl on my head so I wore the bowl like a hat and the guac as a chunky green wig. I let out a mangled noise- some kind of mix between a shriek and a gasp- and glared murderously at him, hoping to drill a hole in his head or spontaneously combust his happy laughing ass. Sadly, it wasn't working because he was still rolling around on the floor, clutching his stomach with laugh lines crinkling his eyes. A smile threatened to break my facade at the sight of those laugh lines. They were really adorable... No! Get a hold of yourself Chandler!

I pulled my wand out from my knee sock and scourgified myself before titillo-hexing Al so he had a murderous tickling sensation all over his body. He was practically shrieking now in laughter, rolling around like something from The Exorcist.

"O-...okay...okay," he gasped between fits of giggles. Is there a manly term for giggled? Gaggled? Gorgled? Chortled? Turtled? "You...w-w-win...I s-sur...rend-d-der."

"Promise?" I asked tentatively, creeping over to his side and sneaking a peek at him. Every few laugh/shrieks or so he would gasp for air and his eyes would bulge open, then they'd squeeze themselves shut and crinkle in the corners cutely again as he continued to laugh. I wonder if this was actually painful...

"PROMISE!" he shouted as menacingly as he could while being overcome with laughter. I quickly muttered the counter-curse and literally a second later Al pounced on me, pinning me down to the ground as I let out a yelp and recovering his breath.

"That," he said between huge gulps of air, "was evil."

I smirked up at him victoriously, then grimaced at the pain in my thighs as he pinned them down with his knees. I did mention that this boy weighed a ton, right? Honestly, it was like he ate Twinkies breakfast, lunch, and dinner or something... But the boy was impossible fit if I remembered correctly from my glimpse that first night. All I have to say is YUM.

"Well that's what you get for dumping a whole bowl's worth of guacamole into a girl's hair!" I hissed. It was pretty sad though. It lacked any trace of spite or venom as I was currently pre-occupied with the fact that this particular boy had invaded my space numerous times tonight- something that I absolutely never allow. Space is a big deal to me after my experiences at Y.M.A.N.Y. I wasn't mad or shocked that he'd invaded it per say, only that I'd let him. Huh.

"My stomach's going to be sore for a week Chandler!" he growled. Yes, he actually growled. Damn.

"And even though I scourgified myself I'm going to smell for a week Al!" I spat back.

"Stop tickling my feet!" He shouted in my face.

"I can't be tickling your feet moron! You're pinning my hands and legs down!"

Suddenly what we'd just said sunk in and we both craned our necks to take a look at Al's feet. Of course Al's huge head was in the way so I didn't get to see anything, but suddenly he screamed (very manly, I know) and jumped off me, running to the corner and cowering. No wonder he's not in Gryffindor...

I instantly felt a million times better without his fat ass (okay not really) on top of me and I let out a sigh of relief. I sat up, my palms digging into the ground to support me, and found a tiny, innocent, striped gray fur ball a few feet away from me. Wait a second...

"BABOO!" I shrieked, jumping onto my kitty and hugging the life out of him. He meowed in response. Is that sarcasm I detect in your voice Baboo? "I've been looking for you everywhere you stupid cat!"

"In my defense, he didn't actually look like a cat," Al added from the corner to preserve his manliness. This time I didn't suppress my eye roll.

"Yeah, and I'm sure an oversized gray striped Pygmy Puff is loads scarier..."

"Oh shut it," he sneered, creeping tentatively over to me and Baboo. He sat down next to me on the floor and I sat my ickle kitty cat in his lap. Instead of going berserk and attacking his face like I secretly deep, deep, down hoped he would, Baboo just sat still in Al's lap and started licking his paws like a totally innocent cat. That little... Ugh. You know what? Don't even get me started on my cat's theatrics. I could rant for hours about how bad of a person he makes me look.

"He's kind of...cute," Al said, surprised, prodding Baboo with a finger like he was a test subject in a science lab or something.

"Well duh! My little brother Ty is the absolute cutest thing and he picked this fluffy monstrosity out for me so he has to be cute," I said grinning at the memory that surfaced. Speaking of, I really needed to send an owl home for that kid soon.

"Wait, you have another brother?" he asked brightly. I sighed at his lack of originality. It was always going to be the same thing with him wasn't it?

"No Sherlock, I'm in a gang back in Harrisburg and Ty's one of my 'bros'," I said, shaking my head at this boy's blondness. Al was oddly silent so I turned my gaze onto him to find him staring open mouthed at me, regarding me with a look of fear and oh-my-Merlin-she's-a-BAMF in his eyes.

"Idiot, I was being sarcastic. Yes, I do have another brother. Geez."

"Not my fault if your sarcasm doesn't sound any different than your normal tone," he grumbled. I slapped him upside the head. That shut him up.

Not for long though. We wound up staying up all night talking, laughing, and untimely falling asleep on the kitchen floor at around four in the morning, somehow winding up crushed up against each other with Baboo stretched out over both our chests, his tail tickling my nose all through the night.


	4. Ty, Halloween, and Bancroft

**Al's POV**

I woke up and instantly regretted it. I hurt like hell all over my body. Where was I? I sat up and grimaced at the string of popping noises from my back as it cracked. My neck was stiff as stone and I couldn't move it at all, and my whole entire body was freezing cold to the point where it was going numb in some places. Ouch. Not to mention the fact that my eyes burned like you wouldn't believe and my eyelids felt as if I had replaced them with cement blocks. I was so groggy I might as well have been hungover

The entire length of my right side was oddly warm though. I smiled goofily at the sensation and curled up into whatever it was, circling my arms around it and hugging it closer like it was a teddy bear or something. I instantly felt warmer and nuzzled further into it before embracing my lazy side and falling back asleep.

...

**Chandler's POV**

For someone who'd slept on a kitchen floor with an obese cat (okay not true. He's quite fit for a little kitty) pressing on my lungs and cat fur shoved in my mouth, I felt pretty good when my eyes finally fluttered open. The sunlight was streaming in from the windows in the kitchen in warm, hazy triangles, the morning gray and blue like rain was brewing. Thankfully no house elves were in here like they had been in my dreams. Seriously, where were they? Aren't they always supposed to be lurking around in here?

I felt a light pressure on my ribs and smiled as I watched Baboo stretch and silently yawn like cats do, his soft little paws pushing up against my chin. What a weirdo...

I suddenly became very aware of someone else's presence next to me as they stirred in their sleep, the arm I hadn't yet noticed was wrapped protectively around me circling tighter. My eyes widened to the size of quaffles and I stiffened up, my whole body going rigid at a second's notice. So much for personal space…

What the Hufflepuff was going on? (yes I just said that. Kind of…) Think Chandler, think. What did you do last night? Okay, I woke up, got dressed, went downstairs, and then… I ate breakfast with Al and Scorpius! Good Chandler, now we're getting somewhere. Okay, then what? Let's see… Oo oo ooooooo! Quidditch try-outs! That's right! I totally kicked ass and I'm now officially on the Gryffindor quidditch team. And I hit Chuck Morton in the face… Holy Merlin. Please, oh please, please, please, please with Sour Punch Straws and Jolly Ranchers on top, please say that the creep hugging me (who smelled admittingly amazing, I might add- like green Sour Patch Kids and the captivating scent of quidditch pitch grass) was not Chuck Morton.

Holy hell. No. Just- no. I sat there paralyzed for a moment, absolutely terrified. I was too scared to sneak a peek at the hugger and find out if it really was Chuck or not. Damn you morning grogginess!

I finally collected my bearings and forced myself to be a brave Gryffindor and just look over my shoulders. One… two… three! I whipped my head around, my unraveled braid whipping the perpetrator in the face and making him sneeze adorably. Midnight eyelashes fluttered open to reveal bright green eyes the color of gleaming emeralds and the new leaves of summer on the trees back home. Whew- I literally sighed in relief, a huge wave of worry rolling right off my chest. A smile graced my face and he slowly smiled back, dimples forming in the corners and his eyes twinkling with that ever-constant Wotter mischief. It was only Al.

Wait. It was only Al- with the front of his gray guacamole-stained shirt pressed right up against the back of my dad's Penn State sweatshirt, with the legs of his navy sweatpants curled up in the curves of my freezing cold ones (short red flannel boxers with Yorkies all over them only get you so far), with his cold nose just moments ago pressed against my neck and his firm arm still wrapped around me with my hand holding onto it just for good measure. No. No no no no no no no. This wasn't supposed to happen here! This was my clean slate- my second chance. Albus Potter and his adorable dimples weren't going to ruin that for me.

The lazy grin fell right off my face and I scrambled up, for once towering over the poor boy as he looked up at me from the floor, confused. I felt really cold and… like I was missing something where he'd just been pressed up against me moments ago. I brushed it off and my defenses went up, flipping my crazy switch just as Chuck Morton and his giggly, blonde, Hufflepuff flavor of the hour walked into the kitchen, holding hands and looking disgustingly cutesy with each other. They froze when they caught sight of the two of us.

My eyes started to tear up for absolutely no reason and I angrily wiped them away before flinging my hand to the side. No wonder everyone called me Nutter. I was batshit crazy. Well, might as well take advantage of it.

"RAPIST!" I screeched at Al, pointing a shaky finger at him before diving down to rescue my little kitty from his pervy clutches. I let myself have once last glimpse of Albus Severus Potter before giving him a scornful, maniacal eye twitch and running out of there like I had a freaking werewolf on my case, stumbling slightly on the kitchen tiles and ramming shoulders with Chuck, whose dull brown eyes stared after me, dumbfounded. So much for any plans I might have had for friends.

**Al's POV**

"Never knew you had it in you Potter. Nice," Chuck said with a cheeky laugh and a disturbing wink in my direction, his dark, smarmy eyes still trailing after Chandler's ass even after she was long gone. I was too shocked to respond, mind reeling restlessly. Chandler was such a puzzle. One minute she was cool and normal and the next she was completely off her rocker. If I didn't know her better, I would've thought it was her safety blanket-you know, something to fall back on when she got lost or self-conscious.

"That girl is crazed. Like, really messed up in the head," Chuck's friend said airily-vacantly, her minky blonde head tilted to the side with a stupid grin on her face, her eyes glazed over like she'd just heard a joke she didn't quite get.

"Yeah, but the crazy ones are always really wild," Chuck said repulsively, right in front of his slag of the morning too. She looked up at him quizzically for a moment before her grin came snapping back onto her face like a boomerang.

I was ashamed on behalf of the entire male population to have anything at all in common with Chuck, even something as small as gender. It was repugnant.

"You're such a prick," I spat at him, my eyes slicing through him. He looked at me, taken aback for a moment, before a slimy smirk twisted his face.

"It's funny, really- how different you and your sister are."

That was it. I snapped. Without Scorp here to hold me back I lunged at him, wrapping around his torso and tackling him to the ground. We both landed painfully on the cold tiles of the kitchen floor, me on my elbow, him on his shoulder. I quickly scrambled to compose myself and pinned him down. That was the last straw. This pervert needed to learn a lesson or two- actually, more like a hundred. Maybe it'd even bring his IQ up a point from sixteen to seventeen. He opened his mouth, a no doubt disgusting little tid-bit about my sister on the tip of his tongue, when images floured into my head-images of my sister and Chuck, of Chuck and my sister. Together. My hand reared back in a flash of jittery disgust and anger and then I could feel my knuckles steam-rolling into his jaw, packing one hell of a punch. His little friend let out a shrill shriek before abandoning him completely and flying out of the kitchens. What classy taste Chuck had…

"Don't you ever," I growled, sneering in his face, "talk about my sister again, you spineless prat!"

I pulled my fist back for another go, ready to punch the holy hell out of this slimy bastard. And that was the precise moment McGonagall decided to walk into the kitchens, Chuck's minky blonde cowering behind her, peeking up over her shoulder, having to stand on her tiptoes. I looked down then, averting my eyes from the flat disappointment in McGonagall's gray eyes. It always felt so shitty when she gave me that look- the one that said just how different I was from my dad and how she expected so much more out of the pride son of Ginny and Harry Potter. I apparently lowered the standards for the Potter/Weasley family. My fist fell to my side deflatedly and my eyes caught Chuck's. His lips lifted arrogantly in a crooked sort of smirk before he fell back against the tiles, groaning like he'd never been in more pain in his life. McGonagall gave me this look that completely conveyed the seriousness of my situation.

I was in deep shit.

…

**Chandler's POV**

I'd made it all the way to the Fat Lady before I'd stopped running, wheezing like I belonged on the Biggest Loser. Note to self : get fit. Ditch the Sour Patch Kids or something, I mean, my god Chandler. This is just depressing.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked me, quite snobbily I might add. I didn't have enough breath to answer her and she quickly lost patience as I heaved and huffed and basically died.

"Password?" she insisted haughtily at me. I gave her my best glare before taking a gigantic gulp of air.

"Oh, shut it," I sneered at her, resulting in an appalled gasp. "Cornelius Pixies."

She huffed at me indignantly a bit before opening up her ancient doorway and letting me through. I stumbled in and flopped on the floor, desperate for air. I lay there on the rug, my fingers playing with the tassels, for a really long time, happily breathing in all the air I could.

"See. Told you she was mental. Rumor is she moved here because America kicked her out. Couldn't even fit in in her own country. St. Mungo's wouldn't even take her in. Guess we're just unfortunate."

I lifted my head to find my roommate Heather looking at me from behind the back of the common room couch with two other girls I'd never met before sitting next to her, eyeing me dangerously.

"She certainly looks the part," one with outrageously long eyelashes and platinum blonde hair snickered, making Heather roll her head back and let out a creepily perfect string of bell-like laughter.

"And look at what she's wearing! Must be a slag, too, if she walks in in the same clothes from last night after never coming back to the dormitory for curfew."

"You know," I said. "At least I wear clothes that cover my ass and actually serve a purpose besides showing off a total lack of cleavage. Guys don't have to be drunk or in a dark room to want me either, unlike you. " That shut her up. She turned back to her other perfect friends, who looked like they wanted to kidnap me in the dark of night and drown me in the Black Lake. The other girl, a pretty stick with olive-skin and sleek dark hair that framed her face edgily, scoffed and narrowed her eyes at me, clearly trying to brush off the very true and very embarrassing fact I had just brought to light.

"Hey Chandler!" a familiar voice rang out form behind me. I turned to see Rose, vibrant red hair spiraling wildly and blue eyes shining. I noticed a button on her shirt was buttoned wrong, but I didn't say anything. You would think she would be a little less obvious when it came to shagging Scorpius. She set her books down next to me, and faced me, her face flushed with excitement.

"You look excited," I mused. She just grinned at me in response.

"I am! Hogsmeade is this weekend!" she said, clapping her lanky hands together. She earned a glare from Heather but didn't seem to notice it.

"What's that? Isn't that the town like a mile down?" I asked, kind of confused as to why she was so excited. Were they like having a sale? No offense, but that town didn't really scream "WE HAVE KNEE SOCKS AND CAT FOOD YOU WOULD LOVE! COME BUY OUR STUFF!" It was more of a "We have creepy stores and most of them smell like dead birds." The latter wasn't really up my alley. Except for the creepy stores part...kidding! Kinda...

"Yes! Every few weekends or so, Hogwarts students are allowed to go down to Hogsmeade and spend the day there. Usually our family comes and visits, especially our cousins. And they have so many little stores and I usually end up eating my ass off. God I love food. And then there's the part where you actually have a place to go on dates. That's useful too. What's not to like?"

"Oh, are you going with Scorpius this time?" I asked, aimlessly twirling my dark hair around my finger. When I looked up to see her answer, she looked mortified that I had said such a thing out loud, blue eyes wide and panicked. Nobody around us had seemed to notice, but that didn't seem to matter to Rose. She roughly grabbed my left arm and pulled me into the corner by the bookshelves. She shoved a giggling set of second year girls away and glared at me.

"What the hell, Chandler? You can't just go around saying that out loud! People could have heard you!" she hissed, looking around frantically with nervous eyes like some twerp was going to come jumping out from behind the bookshelves.

"Rose, if you like him so much, just stop caring about what people think. It's not helping. Besides, angry Rose isn't exactly my favorite."

She looked at me for a second, like she couldn't believe something random and weird hadn't just come out of my mouth. I quickly looked away, hoping she would let it slide. Stupid mistake, Chandler.

"Whoa, Chan. That actually made sense!" She said, still looking at me. I quickly changed the subject.

"Okay, well then how about you, Scorp, Al, and I all go together? We could go look at what type of Dungeons and Dragons sets they have in the stores and you could meet my family!" I said. Rose gave me a weird look about the D&D thing, but eventually smiled and agreed to go.

**Albus POV**

"Nervous?" Scorp asked me, materializing out of thin air, walking up on my right as we headed outside. The toe of his shoe trapped the heel of mine and I stumbled forward, flailing my arms, rising a laugh out of him. I growled at him and pushed him roughly, sending his laughing ass fumbling for balance.

It was the weekend, and we were starting it off with a bang, a.k.a. a trip to Hogsmeade with Chandler and Rose. Rose had invited Scorp and I to go with them yesterday when we were eating dinner. I was curious to see if Scorp would agree to it, and as he accepted the invitation, I saw something in Rose's eyes I couldn't register. She looked surprised, but also almost... happy?

"Why the hell would I be nervous? It's Chandler and Rose, Scorp. My skinny ginger cousin and the spastic new girl," I said sharply, the words fumbling off my tongue a little to fast and taking the defensive side, running a hand through my hair with a harsh sigh. I tried not to let the swell in my chest at the sound of her name escape into the open, but Scorp knew me too well.

"Oh, come on, Al. You spent forever on your hair this morning, and you're a bloke. You never spend more than five seconds on it. Admit it. You fancy Chandler."

"I don't fancy her, Scorp. We're just good friends." I said, my last words trailing off unconvincingly as I spotted Rose and Chan over by the gate. Rose's hair was cascading down her back in a waterfall of flames that flickered with her every movement, and a pale blue dress was painted on her body, flirting with her knees. It was a little too tight, in my cousinly opinion, but-shocker-the guys staring at her ass didn't seem to mind one bit. Usually my blood would be simmering to a proper boil and I'd be walking over right now to pummel their pervy asses, but my attention was otherwise captivated by the other more quiet girl standing next to my loud cousin, the small smile playing with her lips utterly entrancing. A pair of candy apple red shorts were shocking against her lean tan legs, and her white top fit her so perfectly it was literally hypnotizing, stripes stretching across her chest. Her hair was pulled back, and her smile was painted with red lipstick that was enough to drive a bull crazy. She laughed at something Rose said, her head tipping back just the slightest fraction as her eyes lit up with mirth, making the curled ends of her ponytail tickle the back of her neck. Next thing I knew those dark inviting eyes were suddenly on mine, and they seemed to glitter as she noticed me. I felt an elbow nick my ribs and it snapped my attention back into the real world- the world where Chandler was excitedly grabbing Rose's elbow and dragging her towards us. I spared a look sideways away from my friend Chandler at Scorp to find him already looking at me knowingly, his eyebrow raised in mischievous accusation.

"Hey guys!" Chandler greeted us, pushing a strand of loose hair behind her ear. Rose was one step behind her, and was laughing as Scorp glared at Baboo, tucked into Chandler's arms.

"Why did you have to bring the bloody cat?" He asked, still looking like he wanted to kill it. Chandler pulled Baboo protectively against her chest tightly. Lucky cat...`

"Because Ty is coming today, you silly radish!" she said, acting like radish was the most practical adjective in the world and rolling her eyes playfully. Rose and Scorpius shared a confused glance.

"Who's Ty?" Rose asked.

"He's coming with my dad to visit me today. You'll love him!" Chandler said in a contagious excited rush. Before Rose could ask another question about Ty, Chandler turned on her heel and started skipping down the path to Hogsmeade, singing some pop song out loud to herself and that bloody cat of hers. I laughed as Rose joined her and I heard Baboo meow disdainfully. Scorp winked at me, then took off after them.

...

"Omigosh!"

Chandler just about flipped her shit. She reached over me and grabbed the edge of the table in one hand and the edge of the booth with the other, scrambling over me. Her foot was squashed up on top of my leg for a moment while she tried to climb out of the booth and I hissed, the heel of her oxford digging into my thigh. She didn't seem to notice. Or care.

Chandler scrambled out, running in a dead sprint to the other side of the tavern, jumping into an older man's arms. I went on high alert for a second. What exactly was going on here? Did we need to call Dateline for an intervention?

"Whoa," the man laughed, his arms coming up to wrap around her torso. He set her back down on the ground, trying to unravel her arms calmly from his neck. He finally succeeded and Chandler let go, smiling at the man brightly for a moment before letting out a scream and dancing around a bit, hopping from foot to foot. She crouched down and picked something up, smiling and giving it quick kisses all over. Was it a dog or...

"Channy!"

Yeah, pretty sure it wasn't a dog. Unless she'd enchanted it to keep up conversation with her... Sounded plausible. Chandler turned around to reveal a little blonde toddler in her arms with a toothy smile. My eyes widened. Did everyone in America have an episode of Sixteen and Pregnant in their name? Suddenly the older guy smiling fondly down at her seemed lot more sketchy...

Chandler made her way back to the table, the toddler mouthing at her hair and tangling the thick strands in his chubby hands.

"Guys," she started, bobbing on her toes and smiling at the little boy, "this is my baby brother Ty. Ty, say hello."

"Hi," the toddler, Ty, waved. And now I felt stupid, ducking my head to hide the embarrassed flush I could feel creeping up my neck, which was ridiculous. Why was I embarrassed? It's not like Chandler was a mind reader (fingers crossed).

"Hi," we all chorused, Rose squealing a bit at what I assumed was how cute the kid was. Scorp just snorted at her, swallowing down the rest of his Butterbeer. She scoffed and swatted his arm with the back of her hand, turning back with a high watt smile.

"So, uh," I coughed as she slid into the booth again with her brother, meeting her eyes across the table. "Who's your baby daddy in the corner?"

Chan's eyebrows cinched in confusion and she whipped her head around to see who I was talking about.

"Oh, that's just my dad."

Scorp choked on the Butterbeer he stole from Rose and then everyone started laughing, the tension dissipating. That's how most of the night was spent - laughing and telling stories over our drinks.

"Mate, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked Scorp a few days later.

"Course. 'Bout what?" He asked, drying his hair with his towel. He had been gone quite a bit for the last few days, and I only saw him in class and at dinner. I guessed he had found a new shagging buddy. Or he was apart of some under ground sex cult that had meetings in the dungeons...

"What do you think of Chandler?" I asked, getting straight to the point. Scorp raised an eyebrow in surprise and I saw a small smile form on his lips. My eyebrows furrowed when I realized they looked kiss-bitten. Who was this girl?

"Um, she's alright. Definitely hot, worth shagging. But I probably wouldn't date her; she's kind of insane. You know she asked me today if I was secretly into BDSM: Badly Dressed Straight Men? And when I said no she just gave me this look, shook her head, and walked away!"

I laughed at his story, partly because of how creeped out Scorp looked and partly because I could imagine Chandler doing exactly what he had said. I fiddled with my hands, trying to hide a fond smile, then looked back up as Scorp started talking again.

"She's a tough nut to crack, mate. I wonder what she's like when she isn't around people. It was so strange the other day when she was with Ty and her dad. She was so normal and so happy. I mean, she's usually cheerful, but how she acted around them, makes me wonder if all of this is just an act?"

I nodded and processed his words. I was surprised at how deep they were. Scorp wasn't usually so serious, but he had his moments. Was the Chandler we had all grown to know and trust not who she claimed to be? And if Scorp was right, what had made her like this? I brushed my teeth and climbed into bed, hoping that Scorp's theory wasn't true.

**Chandler's POV**

"Bum-bum-bidum-bum-bum-bidum-bum." I hummed, walking down the hallway. October was almost over and that meant Christmas was ever sooner! I love Christmas! Except those creepers who dress up as Santa in malls and let little kids sit on their laps and ask what they want. All the parents know what Santa wants. Ho, ho, ho. I quickly smiled as I saw Rose coming out of her History of Magic class. Her red hair was frizzy and falling out of her ponytail and her appearance was less than immaculate. Somehow I knew she hadn't been with Scorp. She looked stressed. I let out a little squeal of relief at seeing her and ran over to her in some sort of tip-toe-with-flailing-T-Rex-arms manner.

"What's wrong?" I asked, smiling warmly and understandingly at her as I walked in stride with her, my steps overly-exagerated. She looked at me angrily.

"How can you be so calm? It's infuriating! I mean- ugh! We have so much homework! And Halloween is this weekend! I have to get a costume for the party, finish my Vampire essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and now Professor Blanke has informed shoved a new five-page essay on Goblin History and the Effect on Modern Day Wizardry and Spellcasting down our throats!"

She was practically shouting and I cringed in fear of the pissed off ginger. I used to know this kid with red hair who once dumped a jar of ginger on a girl who made fun of him. It was really weird...Wait, Rose is staring at me! What were we talking about? Oh yeah!

"What Halloween party?" I asked excitedly, suddenly very. I really like Halloween. I mean, it's my favorite holiday. Last year I took Ty trick-or-treating because my dad let me skip school that day to take him. I was a girl version of Captain Hook from Peter Pan, and Ty was a MUCH cuter version of Smee. It was pretty adorable. Until some guy asked if I could walk his plank... And then I decked him. Haha get it? I decked him! You know, like pirate talk? I thought it was pretty funny...

"Well nobody is supposed to know about it but everybody does. That's kind of the way things go around here. Ever since my fifth year and their sixth, my cousins James and Fred have thrown a huge Halloween party. Since we're family, I'm automatically invited as long as I haven't been a stupendous bitch to them. Although, considering it's Fred and James, it'd be pretty hard to be a bitch to them at all. The party is invitation only and you have to be a fifth year and above. Even though Fred and James are graduated, the tradition still carries on and they always show up."

"What happens at the party?" I asked, blinking, interest peaking with every highschool-glamourous word. I could just imagine these two studs that all girls wanted in their beds by the end of the night and all the guys wanted to condemn to bed rest out of sheer envy.

"Well, everyone wears a costume and drinks and dances and by the end of the night you're so out of your shit that you always, always wake up costumeless in someone else's bed. Then we all walk our shameful asses to class and suffer through lessons and the year's most infamous hangover."

"Sounds riveting."

"It's a lot of fun," Rose said, still trying to convince me. "Last year, I got so drunk I slept with my worst enemy. It was insane. That's how me and Tall, Blonde, and Abercrombie ended up... the way we are."

"You mean Scorp," I asked, sort of getting lost in all the babble running off her tongue. She rolled her eyes at me like I was the world's largest idiot.

"Yes."

"Really? Classy. Like silverware." I said, my voice hazy, my mind starting to wander off.

"That makes no sense at all, Chandler."

"Neither does getting drunk out of your mind, but people do it anyway."

"Look, are you coming or not?" Rose asked, getting up and looking at me pointedly.

"Count me in. Bitch." I said, trying to sound like the tough badass American I was. She laughed at me in my face and walked off to go meet Scorpius, swishing her hips like she was Queen Bitch. I walked off in the opposite direction to meet...to go meet Baboo. All hard-ass motherfuckers surely do the same thing.

**Albus's POV**

I fucking love parties. Everybody drinks and dances and nobody really gives a shit. Everyone turns into inhibitionless hypocrites and we all just have a great time. Unless it's a lame party. Then I'm out in five seconds. But James and Fred's annual Halloween party was exactly the opposite of lame. It was LEGENDARY. Each party was greater than the last, and produced the kind of crazy, ridiculous, utterly unbelievable stories you told your grandkids because you were too ashamed to tell your real kids. James and Fred always brought the best booze, the best music, and made sure anybody who was anybody was there. It was held in the Room of Requirement and James and Fred always hired Fourth Years to guard the corridor for teachers. They do a good job and they are the first to get invited to the same party next year. If not, well, they can bugger off. There's plenty more eager Fourth Years to go around.

Everyone's required to dress up in a costume so if the party gets busted, no one can be identified, and while most girls just use it as an excuse to dress like glorified London prostitutes, most of the guys dress up as random muggle super heroes or my dad. It gets really awkward really fast when they do the latter. This year, I was going as James Dean. He was this famous muggle actor who was a total badass. I even bought a leather zip-up jacket and blue jeans just for the occasion.

Tonight was the night: October 31. Last year I drank so much Fire Whiskey that I shagged Heather Thomlinson, that awful pretentious slag from Gryffindor. Rose wouldn't let me hear the end of it for six months. Six. Months. I wanted to bang my head against a wall until my head throbbed so much the pounding drowned out her nagging. Not to mention the fact that Heather followed me around like a lost puppy for two whole weeks afterwards. Ugh. Can you say desperate? Well, I can. DESPERATE.

I was standing in front of the mirror, messing with my hair. I slicked it back a little, a few impossible pieces sticking out, and grabbed a cigarette.

"Ready to go?" I asked Scorpius, who was fixing his hair in the mirror behind me. He was going as a "sexy nerd" and had thick-framed glasses on, a blue collared shirt tucked into a pair of khaki pants, and a pair of loafers on his feet. He explained to me earlier that the shirt "showed off his muscular arms" and "the khakis look fucking hot". I would totally tap that.

"Yeah, let me grab some condoms." He said.

"Are you fucking serious?" I asked, giving him a glare. His number one thing about parties was that the girls got drunk out of their shit. And drunk girls = easy shags. He grinned at me and nodded towards the door. As we exited, I gave him a good thump on the back of his head. When he looked back, he was grinning like the idiot he was.

...

When we arrived at the party, it was in full swing. People in costumes stretched as far as the eye could see and farther, booze fucking everywhere. Red cups adorned the staircase banister like dominos set to fall, whole bottles of Fire Whiskey and fruity muggle shit were clutched in the hands of buzzed party-goers like their life depended on emptying the contents. People were dancing to some muggle pop song and I even saw some couple already pairing off. The room was decorated with Halloween props and orange and black streamers and decorations were everywhere.

"Al, this night is going to be fucking awesome." Scorp muttered to me, and I nodded vaguely in agreement. As we headed to the food area, two familiar voices caught my attention. I stopped and Scorp noticed, turning around with this puzzled look on his face.

"Al-"

"Al!" My brother James echoed loudly, yanking me into some strangled form of a brotherly hug. His arms constricted my arms against my ribs uncomfortably but I sent him a wobbly smile anyways. His arms were soon replaced by Fred's, who was just as enthusiastic and even more lost on the concept of personal space. He let me go, flashing a Weasley grin and stepping back, giving me full view of their costumes. This year Fred and James were dressed up as...Hawaiian tourists? They both wore tacky Hawaiian short-sleeve button-downs and those funny khaki shorts muggles wore with sandals, not to mention the tacky leis around their necks.

"Way to go all out," Scorp mused as he yanked them into hugs, clapping them each on the back. James and Fred hugged him back and when they stepped back they were all smiles, which were complete one-eighty's from the bouts of skepticism and insecurity they'd had when they first met him.

"Thanks, brahhhhh." Fred said, dragging out the word like a surfer wannabe. I rolled my eyes as James handed me a drink.

"So Al, any girl you hoping to take home?" Fred asked me as he casually sipped from his drink, his eyes glinting with mischief as they flickered up at me from the rim of his cup.

"Chandler." I heard Scorp mutter and I elbowed him in the ribs sharply, smiling uneasily at my brother and cousin whose interest seemed to spark.

"Who's Chandler?" James asked, turning to Fred and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Fred just grinned, tapping an eager melody int the side of his cup.

"Does our wittle Albie have a crush?" Fred asked dauntingly.

"Crush is an understatement. I think he's bloody obsessed with her," Scorp said with a bit of a crude laugh tagged onto the end.

As they all laughed, I just glared. James, Fred, and Scorp were great. Until they turned into douchebags.

"I think she's around here somewhere..." Scorp trailed off, standing on his toes and craning his neck to search for her in the crowd. "There she is," he said with a conniving little grin, pointing behind me. When I turned, my eyes immediately caught hers. She was dressed as a gypsy, with a band around her forehead and a thin silk green skirt that went a little past her knees. She wore a gold bra thing that glinted and glimmered in the lights of the party with fringe hanging from it. Saying she looked sexy would be the biggest understatement of my life. Rose was right behind her, wearing short brown shorts and a red tank top that settled on her belly button. She had a brown fringe vest over it and a headband with three feathers attached. She wore brown boots that went mid-calf and they also had fringe on them. I heard Fred mutter a "holy shit" somewhere in there.

"Hey guys," Chandler said as she came up to us. Keep cool, Al. Keep cool.

"Hey Chan, I would like you to meet my brother James and my cousin Fred." I said as she looked at them. I saw a small smile tugging at her lips and I figured she loved their costumes.

"Pleasure to meet you, darling," James said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. Chandler laughed and then shook Fred's hand as he introduced himself personally. I couldn't stop looking at her. She was perfection. Suddenly she turned to say something to Rose and I saw two long ghosts of scars on her stomach. They were both barely visible in the light but I still noticed them. Why the hell were there scars on her stomach? Suddenly a song started to play and Chandler screamed.

"I love this song! Who wants to dance?" She asked, walking towards the dance floor. James happily obliged, to my disgruntlement.

As soon as the music started, Chandler began dancing. I recognized the song quickly. Some muggle thing called "Hips Don't Lie".

Chandler was moving her hips back to the beat, grinding on James at the sharp switches in tempo, a bright smile flirting with her grinned down at her, his hands ghosting up her hips. She laughed and I couldn't watch it anymore. I turned around and started dancing with the first girl I saw, some hot twin who smiled at me in the hallways. I grabbed the girl's hand soon after, blocking out all thoughts of Chandler as I took the twin back to my dorm.

**Chandler's POV**

I skipped into the Great Hall, feeling great and cozy-legged with my first of November knee socks on. I surveyed my fellow wizards, noticing the younger half looked luscious, while the other half looked recently run over by an elephant. I noticed Al, Scorpo, and a few others of their bro-basket drinking out of a dark flask over at the Slytherin table. I tore my attention from them and quickly located Rose and Lily, who were sitting next to my other bearable roommate Alice.

"What's up, my shit-faced sisterhood!" I said, taking a seat next to Lily. Lily groaned and let her head bang on the table.

"Not today Chandler," Rose grumbled from across the table, her hands shoved in her wild ginger hair. She took a hit from some mysterious looking water bottle, grimaced, and then passed it over to Lily.

"Ugh, this organic shit isn't working Lily! I can't go to Divination like this! It's already enough of a headache already!" Rose exclaimed, pressing her hand to the side of her head. Lily just grumbled something unintelligible into the table and Alice stroked her hair.

"Well okay then," I mumbled, slipping the water bottle out of Lily's half-conscious hand. I took a whiff of it and coughed. It had its own brand of stench, geez.

"You should've just asked me for my Grand Mammy Ham's Helluva Hangover potion. All this organic pumpkin crap is going to do is make you bloated."

"Ugh," the gingers chorused.

"I'm going to murder you Lily." Rose threatened. Lily gave her a look, pretty much stating "You're going to kill me when you look like that?"

"So," Alice sighed. "What happened with everyone last night?" I glanced at Rose, who shrugged.

"I woke up in some Ravenclaw's bed. I left before I figured out who he was. I'm guessing we shagged, but I was too trashed to remember the details."

"Liar!" I coughed into my food, earning a glare from Rose. Lily and Alice didn't seem to notice anything. Lily took her turn next.

"I didn't fuck anyone," she said casually. "Some guy asked me like three times, but I feel like it." Lily had a weird expression on her face, like there was another reason she wasn't sleeping with anyone. OMG what if she was a lesbian?! I once knew a lesbian: she was nice and I had nothing against her, but then she and her girlfriend went to the Grand Canyon. They never came back...I think they joined a lesbian cult or something. Do they have those?

"What about you, Alice?" Rose asked. "Anything happen with him?"

Alice blushed a deep red, sparking my curiosity. Who was this "him"? Hope he isn't a Hufflepuff!

"Well..." Alice started, all of us leaning forward to hear what the usual quiet girl had to say.

"You guys know Matt Bancroft, that hot Slytherin in our year?" She started, looking nervous. I glanced at Matt, who was sitting across from Al and Scorp. He was tall, muscular but lean, with dark hair: major sexy boy alert.

"Yes...?" Rose answered excitedly.

"Well," Alice said, "I've liked him since Fifth year and last night at the party, he came up to me. He was really drunk, but we started talking and he called me beautiful...and I let him come back to our dorm."

"Oh my god!" Lily said.

"What happened?" Rose asked, looking overjoyed and fearful for her friend at the same time. Alice sighed.

"We didn't shag. We almost did and I really wanted to, but I pushed him off. He passed out like two minutes after."

"What stopped you?" I asked. "That boy is a fine piece of ass!"

Alice blushed at my comment, but her face looked sad.

"I just didn't want to have sex with him when he didn't know it was me he was getting with."

I nodded, and so did my other red-haired buddies. Rose put her hand on Alice's shoulder. Alice was different from all of us, more shy. She was careful and wasn't going to be with guys she didn't feel loved her back.

"Don't worry, Alice. Just be patient: he'll fall for you soon enough!"

Alice smiled at Rose, but looked pretty doubtful ad she looked down at her teacup.

**Al's POV**

A shadow fell over the Slytherin table and I looked up to see a groggy Matt Bancroft standing there, rubbing the hangover out of his eyes and teetering there on the spot.

"Can we help you"? I asked, raising a peevish eyebrow. I've never liked Matt. It wasn't for any obvious reason; he'd never been a prick to me. There was just something about him that screamed MAJOR ASSHAT TOOL to me. But then again, he was a helluva lot better than Chuck "The Slut" Morton.

Scorp sent me a glare across the table. Unlike me, Scorp didn't actually mind Matt. In fact, they were kind of mates. Tool-mates, like they bonded over their mutual douche-bagginess.

"Have a sit, mate." Scorp offers to Matt, with the best bro-smile he could muster with the state of his residual drunkenness.

"Thanks," Matt smiled tiredly, sliding in across from me and Scorp. He looked kind of like a dejected puppy in his hangover state. It made me feel bad for wanting to kick his face in.

"So what'd you get up to last night?" Scorp questioned, raising a devilish eyebrow.

"No fucking idea," Matt groaned, burying his head in his hands, his palms digging into his eyes. "If you hear anything, please, do tell."

Scorp chuckled. I just smirked because he looked absolutely shit miserable.

"Sounds like a fun night," Scorp joked. Matt just lifted his head to glare at him. The glare quickly morphed into something nearly pity-inducing, all frantic puppy eyes and shaking hands.

"I dunno, mate," he began, his eyes flitting around before settling nervously on the Gryffindor table where Rose and the girls were giving Chandler dry looks. "But I think I might've fucked that batshit Harris girl."

My heartbeat was pounding loud enough to shatter glass.

"Oh," Scorp started, his mouth shuttering open and quickly closing awkwardly, not sure what to say. I was gripping the table hard enough I thought my knuckles might pop out of my skin.

"I vaguely remember making out with some fit bird, but I dunno. I woke up on the floor of the Gryffindor dorm next to a bed, and there was that bloody cat beast of hers screeching at me from on top of the bed. And her knee socks were strewn all over the place."

Well shit fuck damn.


End file.
